His Lips

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His lips have become
my cemetery
a serene place to mourn
the child dug from me.
A place persuasion flows
compelled like the wind
that rushed the bubbly stream
the day he pushed in.
As the waves tumbled
a part of me died
and buried only inches
another came alive.

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Epmd607Epmd607about 15 years ago
I'm with you

until the last four lines. It was a fresh quality, then you finished with some old hat imagery.

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