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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Tragedy · #1449894
Yet another protrusion of emotion . . .
His heart beats with the

Strength of a war-drum,

Against my chest, his flesh

is warm and taut. Why

must this love evolve, lest

my desires shudder and

give in? His breath is

quick yet shallow, mist

upon my pallid skin. His

eyes close, vanishing voids,

safety prevails as his arms

encircle my wane and

brittle frame. He moves in

closer, pushes - suffocates

now his flesh is no

longer taut, but scabbed

and webbed. No longer

does he bring me warmth,

but chills my core, so void

of light and warmth. No

longer does his heart beat

strong, but faint - now

non-existant, as though his

vessel is naught but empty.

His flesh no longer comforts

mine, smooth and warm,

but captures me - a cold and

poison adhesive, unyielding.

He will not relinquish his

heartless hold, no my heart

beats fast, fluttering against

a lifeless cage. I cannot escape;

escape his deathly grasp, I

feel my skin meld to his - we

become one, my frailties

preyed on by his cold and

indestructible icy shroud.

© Copyright 2008 A. J. Rose (darkchronicler at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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