if it matters how many
years it has been, i care not
years are mere minutes, it
only happened minutes ago
his dark head bowing to the ground
blood pooling to create the windflowers -
and they are everywhere this season,
like cheerful reminders of my pain
beautiful stabbing heartache.
i am no more what once i was
my beauty lost and torn
among his final bloody breaths
in his death rattle and descent
into the underworld.
my tears have poured, trying vainly
to heal the eternal open wound.
ay, Adonis, lovely creature
you did not even hear me in
those final moments, you were
too far gone
to feel my lips caress you
for the final time.
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