a tempestuous storm
blows through
the hollows
of her eyes
whining on the wind
as if a wolf,
howling it's sorrow
in cries of loss.
bereft,
it calls
into
the blackened sky
between the gaps
in her fingers
the dust consumes
her skin
to bone
where brittle
wedding bands
slip
from her fingers
into the sodden grass
full of
mourning dew
dropping like cymbals
clattering
upon uneven ground.
thundering gales
tear through her ribs
borne of heartbeats
that roar misery
her bones
excavated marrow
bleaches white
in the sun,
dries to dust
and gladly falls
to nothing
her sorrow leaks
into her veins.
while
unrequited love
bristles
impatiently
at her torment
that ebb and flow
wither and die
gives her
solace
in her isolation
an eternal grounding
as loves tempest
mindlessly
wreaks utter
sorrow.
she hears the
wolves cry
and she is too empty
to reply
Why does this keep happening. .