"I think I must be doomed. I don't feel at all well."
My God, have mercy upon me in this Hour of Death. I pray for thee to take my life instead of the one I so dearly love. Her face is pale like the ivory of the distant realms, and as I hold her hand in mine. I clearly feel it's turning cold...like marble or snow.
Remembering the days of joy, not so long ago. Those memories just increase grief as I watch the withering of beauty. How can it be that tomorrow she's not here and I remain? There has to be some kind of way we can be together again...together again.
As she fades away, like statue made of clay.
All I wish is to be in grave with her, slowly transforming back into dirt. Deep under the sacred ground. No one will be able to part us now.