She lies cold, in my arms
Mimicking the coldness within
White as death, her body lies
Dear Poesy, you left me already?
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I burn those moments now
The time which we had spent alone
Solitude, our company,
Manufacturing through inks and sheets.
.
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Then I saw that the forest
Of words had dried up, brown
O why, by Lord, O Dearest Soul,
Do you still exist with me?
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Then I made you destroy your
Rhythmic, metric walk
Your grace has fallen now
My hands can’t carve you now.
.
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O God! She lies cold!
Her verses decomposing
O how can I bare it, how!
My Poesy, O Poesy!
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How can I make love to her dead body...