Her feet bled mist.
As shes apocalyptic-
Walking--

When people wilt.
She can't help,
But watch.

The tears half-trip
Downwards; stumbling-
Storms

And a second,
A moment--
A century



Too late she'd gone.

Whiskers lay silent,
In places that
Couldn't be reached.


Onyx fell-
It never said
Goodbye-or-hello

For this ink sowed-
A-seed-inside-
Hymn hearts--
And waited.


She's catastrophic--
Stillness,

Leaning on glazed
Eyes I watch,
And fall asleep.