reclamation

To not grow old on memories

I only reclaim you in April.

That  is when I rescue the spark

that blew out too soon and let your

ghost ship eyes shine once more like

fiery diamonds, brush gray ashes from

your lips and lashes,  pull you into this

realm where the sun still shines on your

hair and skin and with our minds we touch.

Platinum erupts from your reawakened

eyes when I reveal  your name etched

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