When all colors have left a heart
That filled with the petals
Of a different world,
It is her, I see
With a painted stare upon pained hands
That hug her barren shoulders.
I have attempted
To lick away tears, so shallow as a substance
Beside a dried lake.
I sat at the edge, counting what she let go
To fill a void.
Tears are infinite
To a woman without fondness
In looking over shoulders without the hand to stop her.
Upon the white
Of a ghost deep in an erased mind,
Only the path to a thorn
Covered with ice.
When all the world comes to see
Who had shed
The world’s leaves, from the trees
For an Autumnal ocean
To be wild as her,
We will face the gloom
In knowing eyes had been closed to the doing so.
Of a heart jumped by tension’s touch,
There is communion,
There is bread,
There is a woman wed
To the moon,
Black as it may be when it, too, is eclipsed.