And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- This it is, and nothing more.
...we went to watch the waves that bitter day and the wind took your red cap and mittens - blew them into the sea...
A Familiar Rain
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...we went to watch the waves that bitter day and the wind took your red cap and mittens - blew them into the sea...
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Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.
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He felt more crypts cracking open inside of him; the stench he smelled was not decayed bodies but decayed memories, and that was somehow worse.
If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.