Human Cloning

The north star signals direction from these shores,
Leaving my better half beached and dry.
Setting off with Kevlar sails,
You hold pockets full of blistered dreams in belated irony.

We lay on bodies of those who fell a phrase previous,
Refusing to leave with their better half.
Missing the smallest, sidle, strewth of things
I give a guardian angel to whom I leave.

I dug these holes for 19 years,
Just to bury you.

Author's Note

http://browse.deviantart.com/?order=9&q=cornwall&offset=24#/d2ho3ds