From the grounds of the asleep
distant thunder rumbles deep
in the horizon of his eye
consoled by the windowpane
Happy endings are cruel fantasies
testifies the resident crow
perched on willow tree
as the table lays out in sympathy
pillows for his salty tears
of a fiction romance lost
Beneath the pages
of a novel written short
as fate would have it
lies a widow in the ground
Her mute utterings urging him on
Roses serve her no thing
when he does not live
when he does not go on
Pity grief is blind & without ears
Her bleeding heart so breaks
to see his soul weep
in hurt\'s quicksand neck deep
He does not see her spirit beside him
unrelentingly waged in contact sport
for his sake
Him longing a demise, their paths cross
She cannot stop the sun from setting
just as she longs him life
Just as the curtains draw