she smells like cinnamon, rose water

and jasmine - intoxicating

and cold - as if pitched by the moonlight;

 

as she broods closer you can taste calcite and blood

waning everything.

 

her expiration is hallucinating poison - dissipating pain from every vein in your body

as she hauls even nigher - leaving you cataplexed

craving for more and more and more...

 

she encompasses you like dew-drops outline the curves of fresh grass on an April morning - supreme and everlasing.

 

and you capitulate - venerating

for she is Death