The Death of the Other

She is in the dark.

But in his eyes.....

Blood around her head like a halo.
Eyes, cold marble
Blue and blurry
Streaked
They roll

Turned away from him
His chivalry,
A long thin hand
Outstretched
And shaking

He has had no drink for hours
The days unwind collectively
In his stoop
In his demeanor
In his recollection

She.

Once long haired
And laughter like wings
Then he ..

And moth turned to flame
Charcoaling the tips
Curling future and promise
Red lipped youth
Paling to ashen
Grey