our love was a loaded gun
the beginning
and the end
your lips grazed mine
before swallowing me whole
one last bite
of the serpents apple
the sweetest martyrdom
and just like horatio
i'm aching
with the anticipation
of your ghost finding mine
waiting for sleep
just to hear your voice once more
each syllable
still the sweetest hallelujah
even if we're nothing
but the whisper of a memory.
- stay, illusion. if thou hast any sound or use of voice, speak to me.