In Her Final Breath

In her final breath, a sigh,    
The internal machinery of her beauty ceased—    
A universe within, now stilled,    
No more the pulsing of creation's feast.
 
Her hands, once busy,    
Lay still, all tasks complete,    
No more the warmth from another's skin,    
No more hearts in tandem beat.
 
The alchemy of desire,    
That once danced in her veins,    
Extinguished in an instant and empty,    
No more loving refrains.
 
One moment she earnestly clings to life,    
The next, she falls to an evil hunt  
The beauty of her flesh now withers 
Though she's still moist, her sacred cunt.
 
There are no gods to appease,    
No heavens to gain,    
Just the mystery of a tragic ending—    
And the silence that remains.