in unison

I cover my lips with your
Cork-fruit flavour,
The lingering of death
Between our pale palpitations,
We stand and we fall as
The wee beings we are,
Becoming less with each
Breath we draw,
With each hope discarded,
With every undressing,
With every scabrous shave of
Lingering you die and
We move on in unison,
Faces covered and



Shivering