A Passing Lovelorn Thought

 Be you my reaper grim,
           And I shall be your melancholy night
              If you take this sliver, this dagger, this shard
              And drag it down on my willing arm so deep tonight
            That this aching heart may thump an aguished thump nevermore
         And what remains of this tattered soul shall utterly be your's
      All that I ask in return is that you return me to that time
  In which that euphoric happiness was undoubtedly mine
So that I may pass away in that love so gentle so sweet

                                                                Which has now become my downfall my decadence complete