Sonnet #2

An insult, feeling life a spill
To hearts which sang but lungs that never gasped
The belly of Earth turns, though some, consistent still
A locket ultrasound unclasped

And Roman strength, here her tender surplus thrives
We struggle, three, over rust hued stone
Wondering if I’m more or less limbs of wasted lives
Each exhale mine, thine, belongs not to me alone

A debt owed, uncollected
Fixed betwixt my beloved gemini stars
And though we will never meet, we are connected
Despairing at life, these short cut memories mars.

Brothers, sisters, if your silent selves I have betrayed
Know that my soul will carry on, loud, in this charade.

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