And you could be
The taste of victory
Gilded on my tongue,
Between my teeth,
Like poison.

Your name could sound
Like church bells,
But they’ll never ring through
The clang
To me.

You could have been
The colour of life,
If only you’d kept your promise.

And all you are now
Is the taste of poison,
That I’d rather call victory
Over the pain in your name.

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