Hateful Past Midnight

Aghast.

Or rather, amazed.

We stared deep into the half mooned' eyes
counting stars, counting skies
counting raptures, laughs
and Lies.

A social exclamation declares
we are two souls
forged to be one.

The burning sun
beats upon desires
Passion's naked fire
chooses to play Shylock.

We held hands
played "the whisper".
Lovesick juveniles
out on a death spree.

Our eyes wounded,
stripped and strangled the soul.
The soul does not question.
It waits for the end.

Patient.

The love is done.
The mush now bleeds dry
through half hearted gashes
on the wrist.

Why do I bleed
when I try to cut You away?
Why does guilt over remorse hold sway?

Within a day
Within a say
Within cupid's rotting clay.

The moment captures it.
And whats left behind,
is The Moment...