charade

the rustle of fabric
alerted me
to the fact
that i was not
alone
the figure
blended into the
shadows
as if stitched together
by the same
diaphonous
darkness

a low chuckle
wheezed
from my
liquid-filled
lungs
as the knowledge of
whom my visitor was
dawned
across the haze
of fever

thanatos,
i murmured

he made no sound
except
for the swish of
his ebony robes
as he extended
one skeletal hand
towards me

at last,
i smiled
as the weight of
a thousand sins
slid
like miasma
down my tattered
soul,
an ending to the charade

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