Alas, for mine if not; time wallows at only approach allowed,
Grows through perils sought and silence betrothed;
Soothes the tender throats thy unbecoming be made,
Bows to Nothing and All: the quest of fate once aside cast,
Partaken of my illicit life for the vanity made does partake of me,
Knelt before no light despair e’r shun for ye hysterical,
Suddenly, before the light did not thy shadow soon fade as thine,
Finally begins to realise her own loneliness for what preceded,
Therein soon the tears form the ocean her Conscience freely swims,
Towards the bottom doth she not dive for the blood only lost,
Towards the darkness doth she deliver the final strike ere heart crushed,
The satisfaction of her comforting day toward the night did sleep well,
In the ocean bed where pressure none lay for the iron of her does succeed,
And bury towards the mountain door for longing towards the sprung will,
Motions not for her nor mine; for no more attractive than all but Death,
Spreads wings in the sky so far and fetch that all darkness bind her sorrow,
Swims with swift acuity of what last breath delivered by him unto,
Who follows, and so follows; soon dissipates into the wild as serpents shroud,
Lays down finally and utterly wasted to the stenches that putrify her own;
For to have died now only to have lived for another and yearn for once anew,
Thy eyes that do close and soon to have my awakening reveal what no lie revere,
Gone, and soon wept for the first and last of her final minutes at the open mound.

Life, Nocturnal, Poetry, Romance, Works
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