pillow thoughts

i close my eyes
and see the stars
burn bright

like ghostly spires

summoning the scenes
soon cast
to thought

the wistful sear
of ceremony

fraught with seas
of sentiment

the present’s
mirrored presence

a mirage

the pin
pricks of the erstwhile
ways

we watched

awash with sorrow

whose poignancy

was spurned
and spent for naught

afforded
by the looming morrow

latent
with lament

as the pillow
wrests my head

to see us
off

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