dead love

Death's the end of the war,

The moment of defeat ---- the defeat,

yet in all the shady glory rules the throne, 

the inevitable king, lurking in the unknown dark,

with an immortal grin on the wintry-white skullish crown.

I stand there gazing at the cold moon,at the dim sun and the numb sky.

The winter breeze blows by, caresses my soul gently, luring her, taking her away,promising her peace.

I fall apart ;

she ---- resting her rhythm.

love is bloody red, mine got inky like tar and paled like hemlocks.

I have written verses of our love with my burnt blood,

it resides in memory, and succumbs to forgetfulness.

©Jessica