With your hair pushed back

black as the raven’s claw

Intelligent eyes laughing


You had an air of innocence

around you






Like the scent of a

garden freshly bloomed with

white roses


But those same roses had thorns

that could prick and pierce

right through you


You would know it was coming


The way those honey eyes

could make you drip

before they turn rigid




And now she’s under your skin

under the deepest parts of you

She is in your world


A world that was

only your worldview


she walks across as if

She owns it


Leading to those two bedrooms

A library filled with books

that we’ve met too many

times to count in


We’ve met

too many times, Darling

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