Tuesday, May 17, 2011

On My Body If You Place Another Mans Head

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would he
be alive
in love
or would he
be dead
or would she
still love him
more than me
instead
a weeping tear
a poet
on his death bed
fate with the
poetry of his
life fled
as the blood
on his winding
sheet like a
blotting paper
spread
love is nothing
but memories
unspoken
unsaid
man can live
without art
without culture
but can he live
without
wine and bread

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