the stains trickling down the edges of his lips
a straight face remaining
a dreaded corpse
begging to see
blood evident everywhere
hair creeping out in places
ears tucked back neatly
expressionless still
lacking movement
fear seeping into the environment
death and life remains unknown
symmetrical in every sense
cloth removing simple vision
steady and calm
quiet elegancy
graceful in thought
until death once more.

Sparkled water is terrible.
It doesn't work well with meals
Or with my taste buds
It doesn't work well with anything.
If I just added some syrup
And turned it to pop
It would be wonderful,
Not terrible, no more.

If one were to ask
If we were to be
Maybe Shakespeare would shake his head
Or nod calmly as if nothing mattered
Because, it's often quoted
But that doesn't make it true.
Even Will himself
Can't give us an answer
But if I were to guess,
We wouldn't have to ask that question
In the first place
Because I'd already know
That the answer is yes,
It's to be, and it is fated by the stars
From the start, yes I knew
It doesn't have to be complicated
But I suppose if you'd like
We can give it some deeper meaning
Even if it doesn't need one
Because all I know
Is that you're the one,
And it's definitely to be.