A Nightshade Curtian of Sweetest Sorrow

as I held flinchingly,
bare as bones to something o'er my head
and darkness flew around myself
and rapt and full of dread

and recognized the specter
who kept my soul with strength
the pantomime of my own death
laid out of greatest length

the shake and metre known too well
a princely gait of grace
i'd mourn the condensation of
my dying commonplace.

until enraptured I began
and inclination toward
the pangs and chords of bitterness
beneath the eral boards.

and a silent delaware.

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