Fair Loss

That tint to the alto,
A shrill call to
See a glowing pastel, piercing,
In the night,
The deathly colors of
Your dreams inside,
As your fabricated veil
Enforced me to
Forfeit the atmosphere of
My aura, in a muse of your purple haze.
 
The cloudy emanation,
About to burn out,
As a fallen star,
Takes me to your grave,
There's a melody and melancholy,
Decorating and dedicating roses
To the memory of your voice,
Seeking the attire of
Kings, queens, royal, gothic,
In remembrance of your life.
 
An orange and burgundy
Ether melted with violet,
As the crimson twilight,
Danced in the distance upon
The rising sun,
Fading into ethereal slumber,
Like an alchemy,
Producing the truth of your
Spellbound soul, forgiven,
Upon a place to rest.
 
The excitement of death,
And life again,
Buried in tombs,
Born of dust,
Laments the sum of
Spirits, when tragic innocence
Comes to the end of
The cyclic spectrum
Of light reflecting
And darkness absorbing.