Then
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then ...
I close my eyes
to find the forsaken
dancing like a gypsy in my skin
but unreachable
the prayer I breathe
lost to time, like weep to rain
yet ... it blooms
there - in the never-black
that smile ...
floating your face like a lily
tender lashes above
butterflies, waking the day
a call to worship
of the faultless bloom, white as lies
tempting as a truth
and sweet as ...
death.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2021
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