when I came by to see her,
she looked beautiful in all-black.
I watched those eyes,
those lips move
as I watched her read
poem after
poem.
we read together for some time,
listening to each other on the bed.
missing much of what we had,
I held her and kissed her,
the knife inside running deep,
twisted.
my quivering soul,
and her existence having nothing
to do with mine.
her mind like fire,
her heart like a canvas for me
to paint upon for centuries
and then losing it all.
I drew from her soul.
breaking for it behind glass
and chasing for fireflies in the wind.
beautiful in all-black
bending for light in the dark.
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