sEPArate
from mySElf
SHe isn ‘t
in
pIrATEd my thougHTs
PU t tHeM in
the Bi n
anD MY bOdy is G onE
far FrOM Her puLL,
a FRAil flowEr i n
a bRawliNG
b u ll
or mitig aTINg sELF deniAls
WIth SweET hel los
at DAwN, At dusK,
t hE evEning goEs
THen thE PAnic Set s
in
anD i tR y tO
fIND
whERe she’ S eFFINng gone
in the Bl oody night
Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 