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Poem

In the distance, [He] centers on [Her] shadow,
Resting in the emptiness by the desolate window.
Moth, masticated curtains imprison the light, 
By casing the lampshade and confining the bright.

Faintly in view sits the intense apparition of despair, 
Only casually noticed, so [His] intimacy never shared.
[His] secluded fetal spirit cringes, bundled and bruised.
A loyal love to fill the devotion void, [She] did refused.

No liberation from lamenting [His] invective, indulged soul.
Hastily, [He] stands raging, rapid, ready to escape [His] toll.
Several scores of the moon passed while pondering this desire.
Formulated, [He] faces firm, fervent to father this fire.

In ruffles, [She] did muffle, only once a whimper in pain, 
But rejection over took, and seized control of [His] brain.
A lifeless little [she], like a doll on the floor, 
Departing reality, left rotting like an apple core.

As [He] admires [His] most sacred pride and joy, 
[He] never once notices [she] was broken like a toy.
No severing the focus from the stare [He] did cast.
Finally to be placed on the shelf in [His] heart at long last.

Never will [she] grin a gesture nor laugh luscious smiles. 
[her] travels will cease, only the final Hearst casket miles.
[He] cleaves to [her] wilted wrist, cherishing…
Caressing [her] flaccid fingers, perishing… 
Fading.
Withering.
Draining.
Gone.
Sirens scream echoing their intended warning.
So soon? [His] covet was just executed this morning.
[He] feels distraught, and somewhat incitingly numb.
Clasping with a cold force, [He] clings to the gun.

Although a minute too late,
For, [He] has justified his fate.
As [They] came rapping through the front door, 
[he] wasn't there, the [killer] had killed once more.

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