grapes

I remember cinnamon on buttered bread,

innumerable tears that we’d shed,

the day I ran; the day I fled,

singing loud and seeing red,

 

a sullen prayer that I had said,

“Lord bring that dog back from the dead”,

unanswered bleating, eyes that bled,

recalling now, the life I’ve led,

 

like pages purged,

as leaves are burned,

like rage that surged,

lovers spurned,

 

fleeting youth,

and severed ties,

resplendent truth,

that never dies,

 

I saw you find me,

from above,

I peered upon us,

me and my dove,

 

your hands were soft,

as was your dress,

and from aloft,

I watched you bless,

 

my love and I,

we owned the night,

I made you cry,

you made me right,

 

alas it wasn’t meant to be,

heaven sent, but not for long,

at last I’ve fallen in the sea,

it takes me thither; current strong,

 

merciless, you set me free,

my gratitude is genuine,

even though you let me be,

despite the fact you’re not my friend.

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