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Deadroses    the magazine of art and poetry                    

 

Who am I?

Who are you?

Words

Art

Gimme

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 Pile Up


All I can see is that pileup of bodies,
the way every face
looked like yours,
even the ones that were melting.

It wasn't charred flesh I smelled,
but the scent of your cologne,
so thick
I gagged on it.

All I can see is
the way every car
looked like yours,
even the ones on fire.

It wasn't screams I heard,
but the sound of your song,
the strength in your voice,
echos of laughter.

You have not stopped
wreaking havoc
since the day you left.
 

 

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Deadroses (c) Michael Glenn 2004