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suicide poem

why so sad my lovely one?
i am fevered
the light withdrawn
the air is like a butterfly
now that i have cooled to you
with lips blood red and heart of stone
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
the air is full of dawn and spring
made up of loveliness alone
this ancient silver bowl of mine
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
there was a strangeness on your lips
out of me unworthy and unknown

 



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