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Poetry News Post #1555

To you

Written by: Unliving Maegen, the Song without a Tune
Date: Wednesday, September 24th, 2003
Addressed to: Zonko


Lying in the sunlight, I'm feeling all alone
Feels just like darkness, it chills me to the bone
You wanted for the world to simply set you free
Nothing ever hurt like the night that you left me

My heart races in my chest, though I'm sure it must be still
I died as darkness took me, thirsting for that one more kill
I feel my body shaking, but I know it can't be true
I cannot be living, if I'm lying here without you

You say that you aren't gone, but I know you are mistaken
Your heart no longer beats with mine, my very soul forsaken
The moment that you left my body shuddered with the chill
You've left a hole inside me that nothing else can fill

Something dark has taken you, I quail at its might
It's turned my sunny smile into quiet, darkest night
It's stilled the tinkling laughter as it catches in my throat
The burning flame that is our love, the last thing that it smote.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Miraman, in the year 345 AF.


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Poetry News Post #1555

To you

Written by: Unliving Maegen, the Song without a Tune
Date: Wednesday, September 24th, 2003
Addressed to: Zonko


Lying in the sunlight, I'm feeling all alone
Feels just like darkness, it chills me to the bone
You wanted for the world to simply set you free
Nothing ever hurt like the night that you left me

My heart races in my chest, though I'm sure it must be still
I died as darkness took me, thirsting for that one more kill
I feel my body shaking, but I know it can't be true
I cannot be living, if I'm lying here without you

You say that you aren't gone, but I know you are mistaken
Your heart no longer beats with mine, my very soul forsaken
The moment that you left my body shuddered with the chill
You've left a hole inside me that nothing else can fill

Something dark has taken you, I quail at its might
It's turned my sunny smile into quiet, darkest night
It's stilled the tinkling laughter as it catches in my throat
The burning flame that is our love, the last thing that it smote.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Miraman, in the year 345 AF.


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