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My Very Own Eulogy to You

I dress in a black dress,
wearing my usual plumish red lipstick,
Smoking your Savinelli,
the one that you had left in my room.
Sitting by a counter, a same seat,
same old seat we sat,
same speak, same old speakeasy we were at.
A bartender comes to me with a slight smile
through those pale blue eyes.
I order, order a glass of Highland Park,
Of course, it is your favorite.
That’s why I am gonna drink it.
I continues an endless Savinelli,
looking at flying noise fragment of bedimmed light of a room.
That,
the only effort I can do now.
I often imagined my bright life without you, you know?
I would be on my own,
following a soulfully perpetual sunshine of mine.
I would switch on a collection of your presence
into my thought on every now-and-then Sunday evenings.
Then switch it off, go down on the street
to drink Masala tea, to pray for peace to the world.
Oh Darling! my serpent!
I would have been in the sun,
rather than an unidentified shade.
Again, as they say, once you were drowned,
you are wet for the rest.
There,
suddenly a fly comes between my vision
of a dim-lighted room.
I stroke
one last drop,
stand up
And
walk out the door.
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