Repose
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Alone
Under stone
The road ends here
Grave of bones
I reached out to caress
The past, and her sweet heart so blessed
Tears water down flowers, that one day shall wilt
For even they, gave up on loves bloom
I have been devoid of heart long ago
Dead to the living
Living for the dead
Love does that, so do not dread
She, who stole the essence of me,
Where ever she shall be buried
My bones may lie over yonder
My heart lies heavy, with the phantom of she
The past burying all, to the one and last
Says I
Alone under grey washed gravestone
At long last
Père Lachaise
Copyright © Arthur Vaso | Year Posted 2017
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