Silently - Poem by Jerome Fuseau
False times, don't you find, darling?
Just false times. Can't you hear it?
Maybe it is your blood pattering
slowly all around in your lean veins.
But I wish it was the Reaper's breath.
No, I won't be ashamed, darling.
The idea is bright and correct:
He will be there just in time
To make me forget. Get back to sleep.
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