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September Rose  Nov 2017
Rot
September Rose Nov 2017
Rot
My soul has started to rot
Charred black by the flame of heartbreak
Cold as the night you left
I don't think I'm breathing anymore
The feeling of dread carried in with the wind through every open window
Every shadow whispers your name
I feel myself fading as fast as you left
I don't feel the drive and passion anymore
My happy place has crumbled to dust, broken fragments of reality
The air I breath poisons my lungs as I fall faster and faster into the hellish hole that appears on every path
My heart as empty as the canyons that used to make me feel free
My breath as cold as the pouring rain that used to send me to sleep
My soul as rotten as the core of the witches apple
The witch that has cursed me
Cursed me with the boulders I carry on my shoulders
Cursed me to lie when I say I'm fine
Truly and honestly made for poetry not of reality
September Rose Oct 2017
To watch one suffer
To be there as they slowly fall to the rubble
You reach out but as the tides pull in they go further and further from hope
From comfort
A never ending spiral they're falling your fingers slipping through theirs as you let them go
It isn't your fault but blood still runs
And you still remember
sara  Jun 2018
Of lover's old
sara Jun 2018
Red wine stains your lips and teeth,
reciting Tolstoy; war and peace,
smoke leaves your lips  each word you speak
-as if it was, somehow, for me.

A dwindling old lover's flame;
we lay warm on a bed of coal.
Beneath the sheets, I've seen your face,
but every time your hands were cold.
CA Guilfoyle Dec 2016
Now these clouds, the cold mean greys
sideways rain, the north lands I remember.
The drowning choke of smoke and fire,
traveling the dark road to your home
the black and spark of stars we watched
through the night before the killing dawn
before the fog, the cold that held us down,
the clinch and grasp, a slow stinging wasp.
Gone the fragrant allure and hum of bees
the honey meadow of petals,
only a fleeting summer - we gathered
now swallowed in the autumn thunder,
the bruising cold of November.
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