Phoenix

An open casket:

She is the skeleton.

Through the window I am an observer,

I do not wish to interrogate nor pry.

The rose tint, lost when that last petal fell

And left it tainted.

Why must the panes mourn also?

In their black shroud, their veil, through which

No light enters.

The dark escapes, like smoke,

And like smoke it dances through my lungs
In shadowy masqeurade.

With every breath I exhale ash.

With every breath I long for embers.