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Strange, isn't it?

The way we mourn those
Still living...
I miss you.
 Sep 2023 McKenna Pickett
it’s strange;
whenever I think of you
(which is often, I must admit)
I can’t help but smile to myself
just a little bit.
I think I might be in trouble.
‘Aren’t you afraid of my darkness, my dear?’ Hades asked with mischief in his eyes.
‘No.’ Persephone replied, ‘You haven’t seen mine yet.’
Do you know the story about Hades and Persephone?
 Jun 2023 McKenna Pickett
you say my writing is
but you forget that you’re
the one
inspiring it
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
I leave your loving memories
In the hands of the old me
Taking care of you was her specialty
It’s only right for her to have you.
Know that you’ll be taken care of
Your secrets and pain
Forever looked after in her worried arms.
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