Sonnet XII: The Kiss

A sharp, poisoned dagger piercing the soul,

Delving deeper and deeper in darkness,

Falling, scratching, digging in a black hole,

Swimming in a gory, bright crimson mess.

A chilled vice squeezing the life from my heart,

Taking away the sense of wretched pain,

Impending suffering known from the start,

For hours alone in the dark I have lain.

Translucent cold fingers appeased the qualm,

Leaving short breaths to rattle like a hiss;

One last quick stab then settling into calm,

Roses' enticing aroma of bliss.

Forever broken, I take my last breath,

Embracing the final sweet kiss of death.

The End

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