A poem about death.

And she's crumbling
like sand
between your fingers;
like wet tissues
tearing away;
like pastries
and wafers
between your teeth.
And she's dying
like primroses
in winter's bloom;
like fire 
hidden from air;
like an angel
too far 
from heaven.
And she's speaking
but you aren't listening.
And she's smiling
but you just ignore.
And she's crying
but you don't care.
And she's dying 
like a whisper
in a bundle 
of noise;
like white
under dark grey;
a promise - 
a primrose.
And she's dying,
but you aren't caring.
And she's dead.
And you know
you've cared
all along.

The End

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