The open windows
that look gently
into your eyes
are now gleaming
with nothing
but
a dead-ended path
to an unknown and
unwanted world.

The tears that I
could have dried
from the bellowing
emptiness or the
impending crack
on your nowhere
heart.

The string of pearls
that would have
looked perfectly calm
on your ragged breaths
and purple-dyed veins.

The brittle bones
of your fingers
that should have held
the pen and drew words
and written images with
are now dusts on
my empty shelves.

The world is nothing
but cruel.

The closed casket
that locked your deep
brown eyes
form the rest of the
enemies and the
goodness
of  humanity.

The empty IV dripping
with nothing
but the
the dreams, the nightmares,
the tears, the plans
of the lost and
the ******.

My dearest,
where are you?

Hold me close
and make me feel
the tiny patches of
coldness in your bruised
skins. Hold me close
and make me hear
the cries that I could
never console.
Hold me close and
read this with me.