As the winds bowed her lonely head,
Disturbing her sable hair in their passing grief.
She wouldn’t give into the tears threatening to shed,
Onto her hands, trembling like the leaves.
Salt spilled over into the open wound instead.

She was too proud to look into his brutal eyes,
While the mass of gravity seemed to take hold of her heart.
He was unaffected by its embrace,
Seeking in its place, to creep like lover’s lips upon his throat,
Instead of hers, which it just proceeded to choke.

The ground was raw beneath her skin,
Mist rose between them from under the trees.
He bent down to touch her,
Staining the porcelain sheet with the scent of lilies.

A trace of sorrow passed through his gaze,
When he watched her heart cease to beat.
As she closed her eyes, he saw himself dying without her,
And only then did he begin to weep.