What remains but my ashes?

Back away from this place
Pretend you were dreaming

I no longer want or need you tender touch
And if you don’t stop digging
You’ll break a nail or something

I can hear you breathing
Disturbing my dust
You are making a scene
And your tears won’t make one inch of difference
In the oceans

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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