Secret
To wilt inside her summer hair
A light within its bounty
If to die, I have no care
With those golden locks around me
A softer grave has found me
Though, a grave is what I crave
A silence I must keep
All my days have turned to gray
Her light has yet to bleed
She's brighter without me
C.P. 7/10/2019
Copyright © Christopher Pitts | Year Posted 2019
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