She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

I wither. I fail. I scream
I will not wake. Not ever from what awaits.
Silver abode and dark tusks.
No room for me. No room for mourning.

Sharp tongue and jolly seeming eyes
not aware of the deception
not wary of the sun that sets.
Because dentures and all, silver abodes
with dark tusks.

They come and find me. Not gold. Silver
Nor a gleam of a crown.
A gleam of parchment and sharp ink
for that is my silver and my home.

The familiar smell
The subtle sound of a drizzle
The bustling people
The sound of a street band in the distance
The memories
The reveries
The realization
The end

Losing grip
As the void opens below me.
A rage like a flame,
Ready to consume it all away.
The water douses the flame,
The smooth visage
Of the silently stoic seas
Now threatening to drown
Rather than to save.

One good tug deserves my time,
And so I unwillingly fall
Into the drowning sea.

Reddened hands,
slick with broken skin
Reduce the sea to an abhorrent red.
Now sadness has a new color.