she smells like cinnamon, rose water

and jasmine - intoxicating

and cold - as if pitched by the moonlight;


as she broods closer you can taste calcite and blood

waning everything.


her expiration is hallucinating poison - dissipating pain from every vein in your body

as she hauls even nigher - leaving you cataplexed

craving for more and more and more...


she encompasses you like dew-drops outline the curves of fresh grass on an April morning - supreme and everlasing.


and you capitulate - venerating

for she is Death

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