You've killed me.
Any part of living love I possessed, you assassinated. You strung your bow, straightened your arrow, pulled, aimed, awaited me your target---swoosh through the air, direct and narrow, the last contempted shot. You killed me. Any part of living I loved, you assassinated.
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AuthorMary Maurice wrote her first poem when she was in the ninth grade, and hasn't stopped writing since. Catching the fire at an early age, she continues to dedicate her time to the craft. Archives
January 2019
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