Wound

Cocooned in her spell.
Harpooned,
Can't you tell.
My heart bleeds the slowest death.
My soul needs just one last breath.
My emotions are marooned.
What magic potions
Can heal this wound.
All the steam
Passion creates
In lonely dream
Evaporates.
Dying in her embrace,
Better than
That long empty chase
- To nowhere.
Too late, our dead rose is pruned.
Beware that fatal wound.

poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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