perfectly preserved

a cold winter's night,
beneath the full moon,
we lie in forever wait,
stark branches overhead
tangled, knitting the sky.

twigs, black as pitch,
a witch's dark veins,
swollen with ink,
ready to spill free,
bleed into our view.

moisture, palpable,
pending, anxious,
fails to cling midair,
as too heavily laden,
sky gives in, gives way.

frozen tears rain down,
an atmospheric crying jag
splashing rhythmically,
pitter, patter, pit, pit ... pit,
the vessels above pulse.

the sky bleeds out,
staining our jackets,
freezing to our eyelids,
our backsides cryo-solid,
paralyzed to the sod bed.

stilled, hands clasped,
tender the grasp now,
as if a firm squeeze
would surely shatter
what's held between us.

eyes fixed to the sky,
it's as if we are witness
to our own veins' depletion,
our need hemorrhaging free,
saturating the ground below.

frozen, shared preservation,
motionless, fixed to the earth,
adhered by vision into the night,
beyond shivering, succumbing,
i continue to lie with you.