The Option of Death?
Subtle whispers that violently kiss my head.
They softly speak of plagues and famine as she turns around
scraping for a solution for any answer that the
whispers have not invited her to.
His eyes cold, pale leaking eyes full of anguish.
Her mouth, speaking words she didn't want to speak
pouring out everywhere, drowning in it.
His breath shortens the water pulls her under.
The whispers wrap around her covering his body
concealing her, protecting their body.
Death cloaked their fragile body keeping them alive.
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