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suicide poem

music i heard with you was more than music
what do i owe to you
though i am little as all little things
thou unrelenting past
under dusky laurel leaf
let us express our baser passions
passing through huddled and ugly walls
eighty years have passed, and more
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
all within and all without me
i am a woman
out of the sparkling sea
my sorrow, when she's here with me
she was a beauty in the days

 



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