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Sep 2013
We have a checkered past
I call it a story,
Or something beautiful
I don’t see it with your cold hazel eyes
I don’t dissect it into painful little bits
Trying to discern cause of death
As we’re lying entwined on a cold autopsy table
Before our heart beats have even had the chance to stop racing
I don’t believe it’s avoiding failure if we never try
I never have
You read our history like a eulogy
Citing each fight as a mortal wound
Recounting the tales
Over a mahogany coffin
Holding onto your love
Was like listening to a coroner’s report
Each “I love you” was a doctor, calling it
Was a DNR order
You are ready to dress in black
And call in a headstone engraving
With past tense dates
To bury everything
And just call it a mistake you had to make
But I am not an obituary
Annabel Lee
Written by
Annabel Lee  California
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