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Dead Men Tell No Tales
Contributed by
codeofcohen
on
Thursday, 17th March 2016 @ 07:49:26 PM in AEST
Topic:
goodbyepoetry
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I see you sitting on my bed
On my discarded suit
I knew the evening seed I planted
Surely would bear fruit
I hastened to the taste
You hastened to the brass
You never could let lovers go
Without just one more pass
You say you like my etiquette
Stone cold and stone still
You know you haven/'/t met me yet
I know you never will
Me met so long ago
I know you tried to kill
My love for being lonely
Yet lonely I am -
Still.
Copyright ©
codeofcohen
... [
2016-03-17 19:49:26] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Dead Men Tell No Tales
(User Rating: 1 ) by softerware on
Saturday, 19th March 2016 @ 07:28:41 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
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A mournful request to be seen and heard from a ghost who is more attuned to feeling than substance.
Perhaps standing outside of the warmth of living, looking through the glass, and fearful of going inside for losing oneself in the fray. Destaining one/'/s own reluctance to participate, because of some long ago crossroad that took a parallel course which became over time, easier to embrace than the unknown of the mainstream.
A tale of self exclusion whose lament is still heard by all but the voice inside that asks to be invited.
Do not be lost to us.
softerware |
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