Poetry Blog by Ann Foxglove (doom and gloom)

last time

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Mouth dry as an Egyptian coffin

I lie, a heap of ashes in your arms

Young passion is so wet and green

in age it darkens into smoke and bone

 

Smoulder up to death’s dark curtain darling

Dust to dust you always will be mine

My heart, a fire pit of braziers burning

Who knows when it is for the final time?

 

 

 

 

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