Poetry: Spring i.

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Illustration by Betsy Stubbs

 

Monday, November 6, 2017 - 7:26pm

Now I am become

I can feel it rising

Death

The silence is crushing

The destroyer of worlds

Your eyes press against mine

no emotion my mind screams

your smell clings in my air suffocating

me tenderly       hell’s whisper in my ear      you’re gone

no thought          Wait

The heart is cold

Wait

The damage has been done.