His lover storms out of the room
dieing a death shes died many a time
no fighting back with forlorn bleeding words
no rage in her heart
He imagines that her existance has polluted him
with the black opiate of fast dieing cares
the room is quiet except for her foosteps
walking down the hall
in an even pace
untill there gone
from now on and forever he will only touch her in his dreams
in an instant her kiss is but a memory
its times like these
that the silence has the loudest, saddest voice
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