To Love
There is a deep hum in the abyss at which you found paradise
Death is nigh – fetid, still, and dreads just slowly enough
Before we find ourselves, despairingly alone
Haunted by action, and dreading apathy –
Perhaps life was sweet, drearily idyllic
Yet as stench sank slowly into my soul,
Your face haunts me still in possibly. . .
The most beautiful way possible.
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