Melodies of
A grieving
Pianist.
She speaks
As if we're
Casualties
In love.
..
Like clouds
Would cry
For death
Of a crow.
Trees would
Feel for a
Forgotten
Dove.
..
All nights
She paints
Our memories
In black.
Shoots down
Our stories,
Stacked in
The rack.
..
For the
Stones she is
Throwing at
Our fate.
The fruits
Offered will
Surely stink
Out a dirge..
..
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