The lightening struck those who prayed,
For endless love, not fadeaways.
The shock hits hard, and carries on,
A twitching body, a soulless heart.
Till it withers to nothing but dust,
Pick it up,
Gather it,
Treasure it,
Let it rust.
The carcass lies windless and still,
Dead petals crouching about.
But then,
A hand moves steadily in,
Clutching the rusted petal dust.
To never let go, to give a breath,
My hand should stay there for love.
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