Regret, at this frozen
moment in the bosom of the night,
is a bitter friend, one
who mocks us for
every cherished memory
of those allowed to
slip from our grip
to the greater, abyssal darkness
of death, awaiting.
We let them fall,
them who should be here,
share this frozen
moment in the bosom of the night,
and yearn for the distant shore
of morning, as we yearn
for their faces and voices,
lost to the greater,
abyssal darkness of death.
03.02.2021
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