Nocturne

You searched for clouds that wouldn’t sing your praise
You entered the windows the wind wouldn’t search for…
….Blind Moons used your nocturnal voice for a staff.
And the humbled birds of paradise are perched
apon the fiery cross of your bloody brow.
Your eyes play with the light of day.
And on your trembling lips the bitter taste
of sour wine drunk on nights without love.
Between dreams and memories
Hangs the bitter fruit of your love
-An anxious kiss
on the lips of insanity.
Removed and placed further away.
Pressed  tightly into the corner of things.
Where your absence gathers…
Wandering from love to love.