A strange love

This love, it is a witch trial

In which I am to die.


From far I can see the pyre,

And up close I hear you cry.


But loving and dying 

Can never really happen

At the same time.


We drank a bottle of poison,

But it only numbed my mind.


You have bleach between your teeth,

And I have a pocketful of knives.


But we fail to remember 

That loving and dying

Can never happen

At the same time.


Such a strange love, you and I.

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