Part 3| Until the End

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To find her here in this darkest of dread pulls at my being

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To find her here in this darkest of dread
pulls at my being

Her blood—
thick as wine
in a long-stemmed glass.
her blood is mine
to sip in dark times.

If she will be the last thing I ever taste,
the confluence of cold skin and warm lust,
then call her mouth Death
and her tongue his sickle,
and we will make the final moments worth every piece of carnage.

For I know, the time will come when
twilight calls me home
and there will only be

night, 


my eternal cradle.


Cursed never to feel the warmth of dawn,
or the warmth of her lust in my arms.

She is me,
and I am her

Until I am no more.



From--the journal of Davey Luna

Practitioner of the Magical Arts, Order of Bone and Soul


Practitioner of the Magical Arts, Order of Bone and Soul

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