Last.

These broken shards of glass look like
The broken fragments of my life.
This silken white flag flies
As I lay my heart to rest.
Take them, my fingers, and 
Pump back into them
The fire of love, the light of day.
My sheets have washed all hues away.
Put my pencil back on this page,
Breath into me, the words by which
My breath was last taken away.
I've breathed too deep, for too long.
Now the stars, they look like knives
In this dim midnight autumn light.
Like the curved, glinted metal scythe
That Death in this glass will take me with.

The End

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