Hogpile

See her painfully red lips-
No longer.
Watching her mood come to grips-
No longer.
Her eyes and their strength,
In her moon washed restraint,
Painted pictures of purpose
Rising from depths, to the surface;
Of these pools intentions drown in.

Feel the diseased dying days-
No more
Enveloped in chains of maliase
No more
Her words and their wounds,
Bitter sweet and in tune
With the setting sunlight rapture,
A solemn blood sky bringing capture-
To welcoming the means to an end.

Then waking invokes this daft realities claw.

__________________
Through dead blue eyes.