he sweeps me off my feet and lays me by a tombstone,
his volley of crows rain down like black-night javelins,
and i can't quite realize if i am to be shocked
or mesmerized.

the moon shines high in the heavens now,
and her eyes are stuck on me.
she can somehow bear the audacity to watch me
be taken by such a goes-around-comes-around
type of guy.

he smells of sterility and tears
and peace and closure
and happiness in relief;
like roses on blank stones
and lilting monologues.

i can only be struck dumb by the
compelling, coal nocturne
and my hourglass of a lover.

his dual-edged shadowing forms wings of blackened bone on my back,
and i can't bring myself to
turn the sands of times.

so i ask you now:
before you leave me alone in this world,
would you lay me to rest,
kiss me good night,
and tell me stories of what could have been?