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 Apr 2015 Terry Kennedy
Angelina
He was not cold and callous,
But warm, quiet, and kind.
His breath smelled of lilies and he kissed me softly,
Until I fell asleep in his capable arms.
You may ask what it felt like to be touched by death,
But it was I who reached out, grasped his hand, and willed him to take me away.
Instead he smiled, kissed my forehead, and promised he'd return for me.

— The End —