Misericordia, heart mercy,

heat death,  ardor mordant,

the love that perishes in its own flame,

what is left of a cold universe,

silent in expanse of bed and night.

When the corporeal pulse ceases,

the soul repopulates the stars.

Sic itur ad astra.

I cannot coax love back from pomegranate seeds;

What belongs to death, Hades must have.

And I am his.


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