As tears fall from his chin
He looks down to see,
This life drip out of him
One drop at a time.
Colliding with his tears,
Down his body to the ground,
Collecting in the mud
His broken heart lies.
His world once vast,
So full of love and optimism,
Now is reduced to a slow painful fading.
One so agonizing, it tears him.
A warehouse once filled with stockpiles of hope,
Is abandoned now, only storing a frigid chill.
A chill that no blanket could heal,
No heart could survive.
It was that very chill that pierced his heart
By taking the form of hope, and lurking it’s way in.
His heart was instantly infected,
And it was more than he could bear.
It was just a splinter of hope,
No louder than a whisper, no more dense then a midnight fog.
A faint breeze could have blown it away,
But it was powerful enough to make him collapse.
His legs beneath him buckle
Dropping him to his knees
When he lowers his eyes to the ground
He finds the hope lying there.
His heart which has felt so much,
Once bound by an infallible determination,
Now only feels the rain washing away the infection
And replacing it with regret and doubt.
As the beats become slower, the tears descend faster
He is slowly fading to gray.
The voices from within his soul
Cry to him as he screams out in agony;
“Why will this pain not subside?!”
This infection, this plague
It once looked so promising,
But it is now grabbing him by his throat.
Coughing, reaching, gasping
Each breath shorter than the last
He becomes weak and useless
As his face collides with the mud.
The sound of the rain is deafening,
There is no one around to comfort.
His blood becomes diluted, so that no one can see
The truth behind his gray eyes.
Gravity is pulling him down,
Sad, dreary eyes hung low.
As he fades away
He slowly pulls in one
last
breath
“Goodbye my Love.”
© 2009 Michael Plum