Something that just came to me as I wrote it. This may or may not get an edit if more comes to me.
She moaned. It was a dark green sort of sound and as our lips began their ritual I was reminded of how the horizon tastes just before the sun disappears below it. My eyes drowned in hers and I could hear the rallies, the marches, the revolutionary speeches; conflict meant to end conflict. There was a fire on the tip of her tongue that scorched my words, and light in the palms of her hands as she ran her fingers through my hair, illuminating the aphotic recesses of my mind. We struggled to stay sane in each others arms. Our existence, for those short, long, euphoric moments, was an existence that staunched the flow of time and sped us to the heart of the universe, in sync with our own slow, fast beating hearts. The cacophony of silence was interrupted only by the collision of our breath, the cacophony of our emotions quieted only by Death, perched on our window sill, constantly singing, beckoning her, crooning to the metastasis dancing among her organs; a malignant dervish.
It was a song we had memorized by now, and even caught each other humming from time to time. We knew some day soon that the needle would reach the end of the record and a popping static would replace the music and we would be unable to reset it. But that was ok. We were ok. We had lived more in the last year than we ever had before. We had lived a lifetime in twelve months. Her love would carry me to the end and beyond.