Hot Candle Wax

Distressed casket of aloneness

tightens like vice while

I linger in meadow of corpses.

The sharp wind torments

with needled pain.

Alone with my reflection

in mirrored clouds,

I battle the squall

battering my core,

mind screaming in

rusted swords of agony,

wounded by dark worms

that made the choice

to take you from me

as I struggled

to knock down

the bodies of those

standing guard

over your grave.

I wail dirges of blindness

to your dying flowers.

I can’t hear your heartbeat

as I drip on the earth

like hot candle wax,

onyx eyes shuttered

against wounds of death.

I wear my white raiment

waiting to return

to your cushioning arms.

I was born from the sky

to which I return,

bearing sad echoes

in spasms of rain.