somnet 4 (a week before disaster)

keep me in mind while i am out of sight
like a lover should; though my last refused
keep me as close as my breath to the air 
as close as too close to those who don’t know
ignorant to beauty, blind to desire

i was once the Other - a soul of hate
jealous because i hadn’t yet felt it
the rush, the hit of your love in my veins 
a reanimated corpse still in bloom
you view me like a piece of art displayed

my body, encased in tampered, cracked glass
hungers for you to break through, to take me
keep me as a souvenir to remind
to recall love. pain. tragedy. death. strife.
i write poems when i feel
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