Ephemeral Ecstasies Amidst Oblivion

As the Grim Reaper, I've witnessed countless tales of mortal passion, their bodies intertwined like star-crossed constellations, burning bright against the backdrop of cosmic indifference. These ephemeral ecstasies, mere specks in the endless expanse of time, leave me envious; the sweetness of life, tantalisingly beyond my grasp. To taste the honey of flesh, to breathe in the perfume of the living, it's a cruel jest played by fate.

Yet, even as I stand vigilant, waiting for their fading embers to extinguish, I cannot help but admire the raw ferocity of their desires. How often have I lingered, bathing in the vestiges of their pleasures, devouring the fragments of lives now vanished, a haunting reminder of all I'll never know.

Oh, the irony of my existence, to be the bringer of death and the silent spectator of life's most intimate moments. My gaze drifts across the panoply of lovers, their transgressions forgotten, their souls departed, leaving naught but memories to whisper in the wind. What secrets might those whispers reveal, had I the means to hear? Alas, the mysteries of the mortal realm will elude me until the end of days.