The Finish

more red than black
blood dark waters
warm as my lover’s breath
engulf me
I gasp for the air
which eludes me
pulses quicken
electricity crackles
incoherent bolts
of thought
which strike
and dissipate
throughout my form
I close my eyes
involuntary submission
am I drowning?

5-7-5 (take five-hundred-and-thirty-one : rapture)

this is the rapture
“la petite mort” say the French
I yearn for such deaths