Dying in soft arms III[original poetry]

jmt(63)
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Here once more,

Dying in soft arms.

Drawing each breath,

Through the weight of the dark.

Knit loosely by moonlight,

A tapestry of heartbeats.

The sun mocks our union,

Our laced fingers withdraw,

As we lie still together,

In casket and cradle.

We were but a dream,

Lost softy by morning.

Dying in soft arms III[original poetry] | Ecency