For the fossil I’d discover
Between the innermost layers,
Of a bed, wrapped in whiteness, like a mummified carcass.
I saw what appeared to be Death,
Laying in wait for me,
Like a funeral that plays the chimes of a wedding,
It was here for me.
I felt for her,
The image of my youth.
I beaded sweat upon my forehead, and upon my arms.
I birthed a pain from my mouth, in way of a scream.
I dreamed, soon, a still-life, a painting of my death,
With the streaks to show on cheeks, as tears that have leaked,
From a heart corroded by fear.
A nest of silver.
Pillars of ice.
But, to her breath and her bones,
They were worse enough, to attract the pale of my youth,
The place I used to be, without color.
Her motions, to me, were exquisite.
Her sadness, a feat I will forever describe to be
The emotion of magnificence,
In place of misery.
Upon the bed,
She had almost been dead,
But, tears rolled down cheeks made of a greater white,
Than ever her heart could leech a moment, in lowest spite.