Over cancerous mountains
Like tumors looking dead at the moon
For the awaited blood upon a field,
Leaving her starless
In the gazes of too many eyes.
Of apples buried in soil
Watered by fertile tears
To raise up arms, to embrace the shout
Of a monster with his face to the sun.
With a heart, torn in two,
Meant to attract the residue
Of burned wood in the sunshine,
For she calls to my emptiness
Expecting something of substance,
In the smoke.
Like candles were for my eyes,
Above where funerals come to take
My future, aside.
While words were for the eulogies,
As sickness was for my form.
She kisses a stone,
Bleak to the very bone,
As I have collapsed
To the earth.