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babybat161

5 months ago

Death by Janis Mikhailovich Rosenthal 1897

And as I stare into the abyss,

Of her onyx eyes,

I hear the words

Fall from her lips -

Like honey; sweet and rotten;

Dripping down my throat

They taste of the motherland,

Of home and comfort

Her cold embrace,

Wrapping around my shoulders

A last goodbye,

Whispered into the air.