Not Long Left
So This Is What Has Become Of Us.(Part3) - Poem by Not Long Left
The silence spoke of my crimes-
only the perfectly polished clock made
noise, it was happy with its time.
After the 10th ciggarette the novelty
faded with the smoke clouds.
Everywhere I turned a little of her remained.
The arrangement of the tinned soup,
metal soldiers all in line, holding my attention.
The recent letters marked with the red of
the biro, -I could see her circling them.
Her features cold, but alive.
The garden being the only place she
refused to go, seemed ideal for a place
to spend alone. Even in death she remained.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You