Reminiscence

As the last of the thorns are removed from my hand 
And the blood congeals like pudding on a stove 
And the heart slows to a methodical beat 
Of one resigned to the approaching day 
The sound of still darkness is deafening 
Stars stare in mock silence 
Taunting me as they defer to the moon 
Her moon as she called it 
How she grieved over the death of its secrets 
More so than the near death of our own 
Beautiful 
Secret 
which breathed in the magic of the darkness 
And found us together 
Always 
In each other's light 
As the Sun approached 
 
I drop these roses here 
You would always say it was such a waste 
Flowers for my love 
But your eyes would not lie

eternal