Only Death, Maybe Love

January 14, 2012
The palm leaf wilts more everyday,
But I'll keep it until it turns to grey.
I took it from him when it fell to the floor.
We spoke no goodbyes when she tripped through Death's door.
His ears bled with treason and he ran the same way.
I didn't cry or shout out; There was nothing to say.
Life begets only death, maybe love you can lose.
It only depends on the roads that you choose.
I cried when I lost them, so much absence around.
I hope there's a place for them in silver-rimmed clouds.





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