In the coming of our passing
No room for contempt
In my tender heart
No desire to curse you
With ill wishes
Or censor you
With electronic disses
Nor will a slandering word
Leave my swollen lips
There will remain honor in what we shared
When I speak of you
For to wield the sword of impulse and vengeance
Would tarnish memories
I choose to hold them gracefully
And remember the Queen with dignity
Feeding our souls with honey-coated kisses
From afar
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