The Grave

hada

The Grave

---

First Sight -
Her curled swaying hair against the wind,
Enrapturing, encapturing, enlightening my eyes
As hers fixed upon mine.

First Dance -
Her hand, tight against my chest,
Letting my heart beat become hers
And hers become mine.

First Kiss -
The scent of her long black hair,
The pressing of her silk skin against mine,
The milk from her breath is still now on my lips.

Last Sight -
Her buttoned eyes now closed,
Never to look upon me,
Iced shut by the passing of time.

Last Kiss -
Her forehead, my shaking breath,
Dressed in that gown that made her look so soft,
A softness in which she lay only rigid.

Last Dance -
As she shook from side to side,
Down she floated away,
Away from my weeping form

Above her grave.

---

The Art Of Depression

---

The tables have turned,
The sun in night, the moon in day -
and I am in day.

The once outwardly outward one has retreated,
Has fallen deep down
To the Darkness.
There is no one
There is darkness,
Where he lies now -
- Alone -

Gazing upward, the light ascends
away from me,
away from my widening pupils
Ending all thought -
and so it is:

I am left in the dark
Of my depression,
Drowning in my minds own ill brew -
And each breath I take,
Now takes with it a stench of sorrow.

My days of excitement and joy are over - there is no more light.
For now they have all turned - to night.