tale of a tributary heart

the grieving heart on my pale sleeve

with it’s black veil and cameo locket

obscuring it’s delicate elegies

pinned with sprigs of sage

recollections faintly billowing

like bittersweet incense

it’s ashes enshrined

lovingly in poetry

a dainty rosary 

clutched to breast

each glass bead, an ode

to the deep, velvet pain

framed in the futility

of mourning

a. duncan, 2019

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Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus || Love is rich with both honey and venom

7 thoughts on “tale of a tributary heart

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