I wish, no, I dream
That what behind my
Shuttered eyes be indeed
A truthful weave,
No false scheme or scene,
No illusion of the
Undermind, hid with skill,
Clever covered oubliette,
Like Romeo fell
For Juliet, and while
They played at death, did
Each exhale their final breath.
Had either known their
Next roll of the bones
Would be their last
Would they have passed
Their final turn? Chosen
Instead in solitude to burn
That some vain hope
Might their belovèd yet
Return to lands they both
Once called home.…
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