I walked towards the monuments
shaped like tombs,
with water in hand, solemnly reminded
that dead, heartless things need no food.

My heart was murdered long ago.
I now keep counsel with ghosts.
I already have one foot in the afterworld.
All that stalks this western dirt
is a husk of body,
subtle consciousness, an oddity.

I recognized a lovely lady.
It was a pity.
I loved her encasement.
Her body, you see,
was a testament of beauty
that I want for me.

Smoke on lady with the sad eyes,
pigmented by the sea.
The one I covet the most,
you are now regarded
by a counselor of ghosts.


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