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did i dream you dreamed about me?

Built an altar from drowned
Deck chairs and violin strings,
If the Band can play on through it all
Why can’t your body be pressed against mine?

Love’s last sails held rigor mortis to
The stern words we exchanged on
Bulbous bow of Mermaid Avenue
We bowdlerised their real meaning.

We should have photo-shopped
Our lonely boats onto Hushaby Mountain
Left tiny presidents of the past
As landladies for our unborn children.
 
T_y/o_pography of two minds stress the serif font
Where private language is christened,
My hands remain empty
Touching those I love.
Written by Strangeways_Rob
Published
Author's Note
ERULGCT 167. Title unashamedly stolen from Song to the Siren, Tim Buckley.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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