No more shall these lips kiss those of another
for none should compare
where once pink tresses lay on pillowed glory
now nightmare sheets of touchless torpor

These fingers will not caress nor hold in joy or passion
and none shall hear a laughter peal
nor the sounds of mirth be made
the silence is the death of delight

No more shall hearty friendship ring
for those were tossed aside in grief’s storm
and in solitude’s stark glare
the deliberate alienation of all souls

The are no fresh blooms nor shall there be
just dust rings on unpolished wood
dead petals form a graveyard of hope
and dreams lay dying in the remnant of memory

Forgive me then my lack of cheer
in the bleak miasma of an aura grey
cold embers of what once roared in warmth
in blue-eyed gaze and tender whisper

Still I fall into the darkest depths
with despondent desperation of sorrow
growing each hour still, and time heals no wound
grim comes on rusted wings

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