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I
know I will haunt you after I die,
If first to sever myself from God's grace;
I should not touch you, in life--you know
why;
But death will show me our love has its place.
In moments of quiet, I will appear:
Lonely moon slivered by bough-bladed tree,
Wind-wistful wishes, then, wail in your ear--
Longings to leave this life and follow me.
Here, in the silence of dream-spectored light,
I descend suddenly, surrounding you;
You lift your wrist to be bled by the night,
Secret and silver--our loneliness through.
If you won't die with me, I promise most
To be forever your lover, your ghost.
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