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We were poison at the very end trying to make our poisons blend. We didn't know that we were poisonous, but one day our venom destroyed what was once a flaming love-life. We could not find a way to counteract the deadly damage done; so you packed up your clothes with ice surging through your veins and yelled curses as you walked out the door. All that remained was your winter coat left hanging in my bedroom closet. What was once a summer of opportunity became the sleet of winter rain as icy rage shed frozen drops of farewell. I packed up your coat and mailed it to you as my last word and goodbye note. Many summers and winters have passed since; and then at sixty-two you left this Earth in a hospital bed. The final blow to our brief moment of venomous love. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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