In Her Final Breath

In her final breath, a sigh,  
The machinery of her beauty ceased—  
A universe within, now still,  
No more the pulsing of creation's feast.

Her hands, once busy,  
Lay still, tasks complete,  
No more the warmth of another's skin,  
No more hearts in tandem beat.

The alchemy of desire,  
That once danced in her veins,  
Extinguished and empty,  
No more refrains.

One moment she earnestly clings to life,  
The next, she falls to an evil hunt  
The beauty of her flesh now stilled  
Though still moist within her sacred cunt.

No gods to appease,  
No heavens to gain,  
Just the mystery of the end—  
The silence that remains.