I woke to crimson clovers
Like a wreath about your neck
And asked, “Why does the darkness eat the fog?
And when it’s truly over
Shall we to its call and beck
Go trade beginning tales for lonely epilogues?”

And fastened to your collar
As if ivy round a broach
Your curling fingers like a setting sun
But somehow so much smaller
Glaring now at my approach
A fire set upon the blackest road to stun

I lingered in the falseness
Like a leaf there in the mist
And asked, “When did we yield to circumstance?
With lyrics leaning thoughtless
Offered like the devil’s kiss,
And eyes departing with the promise of a dance?”

And set within your tresses
Like a fragment of a star
The last embrace of some forgotten care
That no longer impresses
Yet it left behind a scar
That tells a story of a loss you dread to share

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