Apricot


He put her to bed and watched her quiver in the sheets.
He could hear her whimpers but there was no shiver in her feet.
He whispered from the doorway to try to go to sleep,
That he would stand there all night, that her, he would keep.
She nervously trusted him and began to close her eyes,
Beginning to imagine finally meeting her sweet demise.
A slight smile grew upon her face as she dreamt of suicide.
He knowingly dripped a tear, what would happen if she died?

Morning sprang but no sun rose,
He prayed that she would lift her head.
He saw red, then froze,
Realizing she was dead.

He descended to one knobby knee,
Subtly smiling to himself.
Touching her ruddy face to see
If her skin was drained of warmth and health.
He shook his head and chuckled,
Amazed that she had pulled it off.
His soul became unbuckled,
And he caressed her skin, so soft.

Eighteen hours later, they remain in their cot.
Both closed eyes exploring the afterlife while their bodies rot.

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