by Barnaby Fell

One night of my sleep was the end of these years
In my bed I heard her from afar, whisper, "Near"
Nor would I have been close, any closer than now
Had I listened awake while she made the same sound
It was slight, always faint, so the breath of her word
Grazed my ghost of a body as if I had heard
The first word ever spoken in all of the time
Since I haunted her spirit and called our death mine

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