Death's Pale Scraps

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sitting in a classroom. A line came to me. Eventually this came out of it.

Submitted: March 04, 2013

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Submitted: March 04, 2013

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We were left there,

With Death’s pale scraps.

Laughing and wonder,

How blood fades into the black.

 

I called to you then.

Felt my voice echo back.

We sat and watched a ghost.

Now crushed and into the black.

 

New trails blossomed.

Then encroached and fell.

I lost you then.

Or maybe I never could tell.

 

So the days pass onwards.

My eyes cast skywards.

Missing a time.

Where each touch was the divine.

 


© Copyright 2017 Micheal Grey. All rights reserved.

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