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Marsha Singh Dec 2010
every night I burn for you
is each and every night
and
every poem I write for you
is every poem I write.
Marsha Singh Dec 2010
There was no battle cry
or first shot fired.
The clip clip of doom's hooves
was far away

and I never felt its hot breath on my neck—
               I never felt its hot breath on my neck

You weren't my enemy.
I loved you
but he thump thump of love's drum
was far away

and I had killed you with an arrow sweetly fletched—
               *I had killed you with an arrow sweetly fletched.

— The End —