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Last updateTue, 06 Aug 2013 2am

Back You are here: Home Stories Words for the People Poetry Shadowplay
Sunday, 23 September 2012 19:11


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An organ of memory pierces,
every thought, past and present,
between the pews and in the blur,

of familiar people, I search for you in
the depths, but all returned is another’s,
thrusts, shallow breaths and a lonesome,
dance, unwrapped rapid heart and removed,
velvet, smooth pale skin and wine stained lips
now the people vanish, and the organ,
ceased. My bride gone, the aisle empty,
the preacher turns to me sadly reminiscent,
of your last adultery gift:’til death, ‘til death...

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Last modified on Sunday, 23 September 2012 21:12
Laramore Black

Laramore Black is the editor and the founder of Slit Your Wrists! magazine. He writes poetry, fiction, and random articles throughout the internet. He likes Chinese food, Jameson, and sketchy people. Keep his upcoming debut novel Autophonomania in mind when you run low on toilet paper. You can stalk him on Facebook and Twitter.

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