moonangel21

Death should be a glorious fiend, an indulgent lover who cradles your head and feasts off the slow twine of body and soul. He must court you, run his long, cool fingers from temple to spine and count the days that climb toward heaven. He should caress that cleft behind your knees, find the delicate shift between flesh and blood - a music only he can taste, and knead the supple and smooth hopes you hold and turn them into pledges. He will love you as richly as you deserve - that final lilt of joy blotting out your breath, his bleak and sinewed body covering what lies beneath, making the light within your cheeks