Undone
Along the flume, my ghosts coalesce;
Feeding the soul of another lover;
Little does she know,
forever was never my intent;
As certain as the days grow cold,
and the autumn harvest thins,
the drumming within my chest
will slow and one day cease;
There is nothing to be undone
until my final breath
has passed.
Copyright © Jacob Welch | Year Posted 2015
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