My Memories are Vultures
They seek a decaying corpse
Lying in a lush green field
Of forget-me-knots
To tear its flesh apart and
Build a nest оf sun-dried bones
Which would hold white illusions
Of my days that are to come
My Fancy drinks the corpse’s blood
And Grins to ask : “You want some more?”
“Yes!”, I scream, “Yes!”
“Revive that ugly monstrous flesh
And fill the void that held the eye
And give the blood back to the heart
And color back the death-ful hair.”
“Let us dance once more through the endless
field,
Drink the odor of a cloudless summer,
Or naked swim among the soft sun-rays,
Until our senses are but scattered dull,
‘Till intoxicated with ecstasy
We fall laughing, stupid with happiness.”
But Fancy would not have it so,
O! The blood dripping off her smile
It kills the flowers at her feet.
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