de la grande et la petite mort

le-mort_4

I
turned
from my corner
with my grief
and my heart
I knew
as did you
I could not
take more.
worn down
like a litho stone
are we.
bare. we
can not be.

le-mort_2

or what?
more
double rainbows from my tears?
more
drops
of sadness pooling
here
between
with you
spilling your life all over my keyboard
yet, I live
I am alive
and with each day
I strive to savour
to nourish
me.
till you
again
as I sought some fodder
for
my weary pen.
and you?

le-mort_3

that son of mighty ireland,
drunk with your anger
widdling away your last days.
toe to toe
to your sacred
blue rodeo
we stumble
as your hand rests
on my thigh.
but the woods called the trees,
the grasses sighed
my orchard awaits
and once velveteen rabbits
becoming
real
my irish pulls
me
along
and we
do not need this grief.
so, there will be
no
you & me,
again
and
maybe
we were never meant
to be.

love,

your once princess on a pedestal

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