DEATH Poem: BULLETBLOOMS, by Michael “Jason” Harris

i dreamt i sat by your grave
one last time before i left the state
for Colorado—or someplace like that.

i spoke with your ghost
about The Moldy Peaches in your car
but mostly
i just thought about the jokes
i didn’t get back then and how

i never saw flowers grow from a
bullet wound until i met you

Author: poetryfest

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