It has suddenly
come to my attention
that I've lost all the poems
that (you) I'd (n)ever
w(read.)itten for you
throughout
those Scorpian months
of autumn&winter.
I made you pretty
little spiderweb palaces
for your spirits,
now empty with cold
lanterns, vacant altars.
Brother Cerberus,
dear Brother Cerberus,
it's All Saint's Day.
(and no one is wasting well-written
couplets on your memory)














Comments
Slowly.
Great poem.
Will read again when I am more coherent.
He's over and done with, hence the
All Saint's Day ref.
I just found some old poems
I'd written and thought, "Wow, I
can't believe I wasted such great
poetry on such a douche."
But I thank you kindly for you concern.
--
This is my signature.
-Dave
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