Ars Poetica

My secret overflows out of my eyes
intending to destroy all I hold dear –
choosing to run through all my lovelorn sighs
(how better than to ride upon the means
each voice hides truths!) it bleeds into my lies,
lifting the shoulders upon which it leans;
left all alone it eats my poetry,
each word another way for it to flee…
Though I should try to take a deeper breath,
amour impérissable de mon rêve,
not even you will beat your final death!

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