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Poetry: Facing death

Death of Mine.
I was not there when your last breath was drawn,
I saw not the soul lifting from desperate mortality,
In all that was given, certain shades were drawn,
Taken on as truth,
Painted across a canvas of living flesh,
When the messenger delivered your news on shadowed wings,
Pain eluded me, a cold distance engulfed one who had held you,

Before,
I had watched the people give their last respects to a soul they had long since surrendered.
Oh, but surrender, never would you.
I was there as they laid you in the ground.
I watched, keeping my eyes trained on God,
Begging as a leper, that the lies they told would die, allowing you to rise.
I longed to lie in your grave and keep you safe for eternity,
Just as I had every night in your arms before.

Oh how fickle a heart can be,
To fall back into love when how thoughtlessly love was seen before.
I felt you there, I've told no one of it.
You were happy, your warmth for once to keep me safe,
Sometimes I still dream,
And in my dreams you rise high and smile a candid smile,
Open, Sane and Knowing.

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