It was him knocking on the door
calling out her name i a whispeing voice
She opened the door to greet him
as he was standing in the foggy, gloomy darkness
He was invited in her house, in her bedroom
a lover recently dead and buried
The morning after he had disappeared
and the earth upon his grave was fresh and fluffy
Two little holes on her neck and the paleness of her
were his gifts to her, these and a stillborn child who
she gave birth to after nine months on the Halloween night...
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