Broken Blue Dishes Stuck To the King
From high above and down below
Bewitching winds from Hades blow
That spread the river’s current thin
And drown with love unsinkable men;
Around they swirl and whisper lies
Of fabled lands where romance flies;
Paradise found upon a beach
Which but in dreams is out of reach.
“She loves you still, she always will”;
Their chilly mantra echoed shrill;
A siren’s call to taunt the soul,
Her prisoner; no longer whole.
As I, but a beggar, survey the sea;
Porcelain broken, bluer than me:
Swales o’er ‘morrows bleatingly boast:
“Thus starves the daughter of hungrier ghost”.
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