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grief hidden beneath worn smiles lies gifted to me long ago my childhood cat chokes on silver tinsel the dead surround me their message on repeat no one will tell you what you need to know until it is too late it is too late the angel of death writes on my skin a love letter of loss clawed in cursive his scythe is a fountain pen ink as good as blood the key to the red door is beyond the self Azrael 's dark cloud whispers bloom in a sky without stars i dream about empty apartments furniture broken for firewood this ending is taking too long let's begin again i am planting the seeds of destruction tearing at roots too deep follow me into the dark the only place to breathe the only place to close your eyes
1 Comment
Hiddie Joe
12/25/2021 09:12:21 pm
I think I have a complement poem to this. If you are interested. Very inspired.
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
April 2023
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