The brakes screech, the car spirals into dust.
Crimson kisses the windscreen, I pull myself
out, cracked and desperate. I open battered doors
and drag out your torn, wounded frame.

Your soft strands of ash-blonde hair
feather my blood-stained black sweater
and your gentle far-staring eyes
are slowly narrowing into slits;
clouding over to the other side.
I wait for life to come pouring back
but alas, I have only the power of
a limp cradle.

I remember our first kiss.
The swarm of doubt buzzing
in my skull as saliva mingled.
Two tongues exchanging tastes
of Bicardi and White Russian,
and wandering hands shivering through
... each other.

A thousand splinters of memory stabbing,
fragments of you and I forming an image;
lines of anguish criss-crossing my face and
tears running like pear wax:
I smash into a thousand pieces.

At the party you possessed the elegance of a swan
and bore the stoic presence of a raven.
I unravelled like a morning glow upon a glance;
and the ring in my pocket was my last chance.
Carried for the wrong woman, but meant for you.
My romantic confusions were like floating phantoms.

The flat silver light of the moon
illuminates us both in this fatal night.
Just like your smile in the fragile firelight.
In my arms until aid eventually looms,
swathed in desolate blue,
a silver-winged shadow swoops for the cloak.

(and i am losing you.)

Stream of light forms a wreath around your flopped head
it is only now starting to sink in,
that you are dead.
Left with the greyness of ever-lasting nothing
as my strikingly beautiful woman, forever ghostly.
He has claimed you as his holy daughter
in his hallowed halls of heaven.
Reaping my sword, lunging it in the air,
followed by a wail of agony,
this just isn't fair...