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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Sunday, 6 April 2014

Sans toi je serais mort

Tu me manques...
You're like the sound of my heart;
I can't hear it go thump thump,
I must have been robbed,
a heart transplant wouldn't fix me up.
What I need, you see,
is more than fixing..

How can I say...??
Tu me manques,

I am dry and cracked land;
Treasures burried within me-
must be rotting away like a carcass,
for I am infertile.
What I lack, you see,
is purpose..

How can I say...?
Tu me manques,

Docteur says my blood lacks a pump,
I am sombre, blue-black;
My Ecg track reader is no longer bouncing,
the line is plummeting,
I wonder if hell is where I am bound.
What I need, you see;
Is life.

How can I say...?
Tu me manques,

I am dead,
the reaer gave me one last pome.
They carrying my corpse to its grave,
It is... How do you say,
A piece of it is somewhere pieced to you.
please come back before I am reaped of soul,
resurrect me,
for you are..

How can I say...?
Tu me manques..

Sans toi je serais mort,
"But for you I would have died,"
yet away you went,
and somehow,
you took my heart,
now I lay here spent,
this is not what I meant.

Tu me manques....
J'espère vous voir bientôt

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