Dirge of a Dying Soul

The music you sing my dear,
is this dirge to my dying soul.

The freedom you so cherish,
darling is the chains that hold me to my misery.

The very air that surrounds you,
is a poison of regret with every breath in my lungs.

The sexy body you own,
Is a piercing pain of thoughts that you aren’t mine.

These lips, now with no one to kiss,
Itch and burn for one more time with you.

This love, now with no one to give,
My life I drown in alcohol and harlots trying to forget you.

The dirge to my dying soul,
Why did it have to be so beautifully unforgettable?

The chains that hold me to my misery,
If only you’d free me to roam my fingers on your frame again.

The thoughts that you aren’t mine,
My blessings blackening to dark cursed skies right before me.

The wishes for one more time with you,
So I try to make you mine again, desperate to make your stay.

The efforts to try and forget you,
Come back so I tell you how futile it seemed, my heaven.

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