in a moment she was gone
not dead, yet lain in hearse
once a lover, now a ghost
alive alone in mind and verse.
i tried to test the hand of fate
and swindle scissor sisters
i didn’t have the strength to cut
those spindle threads within her.
now she’s somewhere underneath
the moon, or lovers’ breast
i wonder if it tastes like mine -
like passion, God and sex.
seven years to break a spell
my lovely ghost, farewell! farewell!
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