The stars of heaven
Slowly fade
Into the canvas of tomorrow.
Covering sweet memories,
The tender whispers
Of the gothic willow
Lull you to sleep.
The crisp cold light
Fades to black,
Beneath the passing billows
Of silver lined misery.
You’ve left yourself broken now,
In the shadows
Of life’s bitterness.
A hand,
Wrapped and formed
From pale moonlight,
Traces a lone
Rebellious tear
Of bright crimson
That falls from your grace.
The moon’s maiden
Watches on
In silent disapproval,
As eyes half marred
By the fading of life,
Are touched by the tears
Of the fallen immortal.
His sad melody
Weaves the story,
Of another love
Lost, ripped,
From his pale arms once more,
As sapphires drop
From irises absent of color.
His wings of onyx beat
Into the faint,
Melancholy chorus
Of angels and demons
As he brings you away,
As you become victim,
To death’s tragic lullaby.
