Entombed
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
When love's air is still there,
But when the flame flickers out,
And the wax dries,
Love is sealed;
There is no air.
Until the stamp,
Is peeled.
Love's lepers are we,
Who pick at the wound,
And bleed out life's blood,
Until, we too,
Are Entombed.
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