i thought
that you could see me
through the lens
which rend your heart
the foment
of foreboding heed
that sought
to play your part
with every waning
flaxen tide
thus waxing
unquashed tears
comprised
of unseen sorrows
as they fall
into arrears
this blood yields not
to yarrow
‘neath the fields
of monarch sky
the piercing
of your arrow’s wound
seals fast
our love’s demise
Max, or Not 
Great poem!
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Reblogged this on Secret First Draft: A Site of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and commented:
Max Meunier- Dissociative Void
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lovely
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Beautiful
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Dead into the heart go your words. Stellar!
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beautifully deep poem. I enjoy your work :)
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Haunting sadness. Melancholy in purple.
Love the image.
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