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Widow
His scent, whiskey
of a spell, lingers
with no body to bury,
no funeral to close.
His translucent love
lays in a box.
No lack of want..
it isn't...
of a spell, lingers
with no body to bury,
no funeral to close.
His translucent love
lays in a box.
No lack of want..
it isn't...
