Draped over me.
Saturated.
No sound at all but violins
and compounding heartbeats,
Distant and thrashing.
Closer and nearer.
Ripened vile upon my chest
The night and elixir grow colder
Sipping my sweet to meet you
In death as we'd always foretold.
I put this vile upon my lips, no saviors in life's thresh
But for in death, I might see you again,
Rather than dying here
and growing of old.
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