you left me dyin’
the land turned red with blood, bathed
bad thoughts flow downstream
*
I breathe smoky air
pollutin’ us from the start
not state of the art
*
my body buried
beneath the earth decay, I
collect vestiges
*
our ashes are raked
scattered in four directions
no chance to rebuild
*
19 Jan. 2023
***
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About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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