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.