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December 1, 2013
In mourning,
open dewy eyes.
Broken lilac petals,
like rain filled cups
mask thorns.
Yet memory drips on sunrise.
I remember her.

If only I could talk to her.
Reach my hand through
pink petals, dirt.
I would hug her for one last time.
I would lie with her.
Stay until it was night.

If I ever am to die,
please lay me in a bed of flowers.
Give me wings to fly.
A boat to float
Let me be among the dead,
dance in gowns of spirits.
Plant my ashes,
so they may bloom.

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