Torture

 
The eye  
remembers heaven
the hand speaks
and ears dream your heart's beat
 
But you are not real
just a dry river  
in a place where flies dance
and darkness drinks the sun
 
Yesterday festers  
soul deep
the cogs of memory
wheeling their wind through your hair
as I yank at roots
and cry to keep moonlight alive
 
Craving your scent  
the final admission of guilt
another battle lost
because death  
seemed so undeserved