Only If I Die
Dreams are
such bliss as to
dream a dreamless
endless slumber in
which your tears cascade
like the falling rain, corrupted
by your gray wrists
bright crimson stain till all is
lost in your blind sight
and you will fall from
your last flight
on butterfly's wings
to heaven's gate with tough
barbed wire, 'stead you
move on to Hades' fire, and
shed y tears to color
white roses' bloom.
Sweet Dreams...
©Julie Pyle, 2005
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