| Before me the meadow awaiting my tread Dead leaves scattered on the ground, the shade of heart flesh Without her the breath scattered before me seems pointless, it is born from my lips, Then sublimes into nothingness with the air. The incandescence of her warmth Slowly breaking up and fading in my arms Till it was as if holding a stone, a painting, Christened with tears in my Church of Despair My memories wrapped around each lock of her hair Flowing vestal fountains of Autumn leading to snow white perfection, her face framed…Like a heart Like a heart the leaves fell before me, swept from their grace to rot against the earth, decorating me in decomposition Singing my name the leaves rise to me as I fall to my knees A last word, a last sound Slowly I whimper her name And now I know she is gone - M F G |