Bone Orchard
Come for me, for my death.
Where in I reside.
Henceforth my soul, abduct
Love, she has lied.
Preside over
Elysium of pine.
Come for me, for my death.
Not a tear not glasses hides
Bury the bones without a sign.
To weep and shake
This sad lover's sin.
Come for me, for my death
Where love has never been.
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.