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Sep 2014
notes lie crumpled in your hands,
frown split lips spill forth your sobs,
as eyes - soft focus look beyond
the clouding veil of life.
slipping out, the blood red streams
(re) paint the bathroom floor.
thumping from the door makes up
missing beats from your chest:
faltering, looking backwards,
fogging mind grasps childhood wonder
sights and sounds and vivid flow
swimming through the decades past.
final breath amidst the splinters,
showering from the broken door,
distant echoes, growing colder,
time, it hangs, forever more.
Christopher Withers
Written by
Christopher Withers  UK
(UK)   
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