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What was lost in your Nyctophilic heart?
What life you brazenly stole.
What you take when you depart
And tear away from my soul

Mislaid, descried in sound recondite.
Quietus forward brought,
Found in your eyeless sight.
Agony of memories forgot.

Sable veins wrapped around fragile beings
Who, in wretched love lost,
Find their hearts fleeing
And to each other dyingly accost.
I can still taste the
blackened ash on my burnt lips
left by three coarse words.

— The End —