Last Night's Lover: Poetry

He whispered to me
before he slept to take 
the last vestige of his love
and keep going

I stood by the door
holding blood red roses
and cradling frozen tears
inside myself

I recalled that his hands
were fire on my skin,
his words like 
embers in my heart

He once called me 
a witch and a siren,
a fairy and a mermaid
wrapped in one

Yet for all my attributes
he chose to remain
last night's lover

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