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Your shadow has fallen over this place like the plague. The chandeliers cower at your advent, collapsing atop this innocent crowd; yet the violins still play. Your presence ensues consternation. Who's next? Who's time is it? It is I from which your invitation has been sent. I am elated you could make it. My mask is you, with rose patterns aligned, a gown to match, with a bone breaking corset. From my painted lips, Will you save me this dance? Face to face, chest to chest, force each breath from my lungs. Twirling now to my sounds, I follow your lead. Dip me back into your arms, my sweet, finally reaping me with a kiss. You are my only love.
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Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
Mr. Shinigami,
Your shadow has fallen over this place like the plague. The chandeliers cower at your advent, collapsing atop this innocent crowd; yet the violins still play. Your presence ensues consternation. Who's next? Who's time is it? It is I from which your invitation has been sent. I am elated you could make it. My mask is you, with rose patterns aligned, a gown to match, with a bone breaking corset. From my painted lips, Will you save me this dance? Face to face, chest to chest, force each breath from my lungs. Twirling now to my sounds, I follow your lead. Dip me back into your arms, my sweet, finally reaping me with a kiss. You are my only love.
This is an alt. to my letter "Dear Reaper," . I wanted to write in two perspectives. In both, there is a want to die, but the first focused on the environmental aspect of death. This one, on the Reaper himself.
Reneebrookes
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Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
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