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"But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er / She shall press, ah, nevermore!"

By Halston WilliamsPublished 3 months ago 1 min read

this sweet tragedie of death

my loveliest of forlorn ones

they’ll weep no more those

eyes like sad fountains

nor thine eyelids flutter as

my—even now—decaying beloved’s

breaths stilled by death’s hush— too soon—

nor the winds chill thee ever

more than thy lips on this day are

cold as the mid-winter’s moon

sad poetrylove poemsheartbreakart

About the Creator

Halston Williams

Eternal Student: literature, poetry, history, art, and philosophy. English Teacher. Writer & painter. Traveller & skier (when there's $$$). I'm young enough to be foolish, yet old enough to know better. Lover of dark & beautiful things.

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