Thoughts on death and over-compensation
The sky grew darker
The clouds grew angry
My bones grow frail
and my soul grows lonely
I spend all of my free moments painting flowers on to hospital beds
I leave halved apples in the passenger side of every car wreck I see
I am the angel of beauty, or at least camouflaging every sick situation with satin and lilac petals
No matter how many morning glories I place on your grave, you are still dead.
One thought on "Thoughts on death and over-compensation"
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You create a strong but somewhat mysterious tone in the first part of the poem (provided the reader does not read the title, which is how I read poems). by the end, the anguish of loss is so immediate and compelling that I feel I own it. I think that is the definition of a successful poem. Well done.