Dead Head

I think I lost touch with my tribe
when I was thirty five
Or five
Or twenty two
And now my friends are, the best,
In graves,
Despite the draw of ‘laid to rest’
They’re dead
Yet still the worst and best
of the behests
Of lovers, and betrotheds, now gone
Live on
Inside my head.


https://www.facebook.com/PremdaLowson/photos/a.1638197309754649/1638197223087991/?type=3

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