She was found a hardened shell

after days of laying wait

the drink still sat in silence

at the coming of the wake,

we stood around to see the scene

but all was still as night

except the quill still holding

a strange and cold like fright,

for the ink you see was red

but dark upon the page

the words so elegantly wrote

from out her deepened rage,

her lover seems to have stabbed her

with an unseen slivery blade

whatever the cost of this love was

I would say was fully paid,

for the words upon the bloodied page

so gently graced by quill

were simply put as a lover would

“Now my love for you is still.”

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