The meaning is lost
in a disarrayed whisper
I donate echoes to your silence
only to die in your respire
no root suspends my rood
for the ocean I wade in
is spent from her tears
there is meaning
in the conquest of your
contested neglect
for I have grown accustomed
to kiss the winds reverie
indifference has always
been my servitude
as the gallows sway
in the waiting sigh
of her fading
acceptance of me.
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WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
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