Spade in hand,
I dig that in which I shall sleep,
I dig that in which I shall forever lie,
ready for death, ready to die,
...
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Death of loved ones leaves behind such misery dear Crimson. And reading about it makes a fresh wound bleed again. The way you wrote this, made me shiver. Hypothetically speaking, I suppose you mean without being with the one you love, you might as well be dead? Yes, it strikes a familiar chord, but our hearts still keeps beating. Faintly, untill one day it goes wild in our chest again. What a deceitful organ! What a great poem. May you find the heat of the sun again and the heat of love. It is a rather great feeling - the thing called love!
Thank you for inviting me to read this. I like the power behind it
wonderful distributions, it was a wonderful read thank you for asking me to read it.
Really powerful, i liked the last bit of symbolism between the fire and ice.
beautiful poem Crimson digging the grave in which you shall sleep in it forever... hopefully with come later so you can have your love and heat and passion again with ur lover ~Bella