The Break
In love
We hide in our gilded
Domes; where time
Consecrates the death of memories
To the point of delirium.
And from our personal catacombs
Sprung the ebullient passion,
Licentious and unruly -
To reclaim the lost days.
But even then, the dead lovers laughed
Among a thousand winter bells
And the bronze boy
In leather greaves
Stands tall over them.
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