Haunting voices in my head,

                 never resting, never sleeping,

hearing tiny whispers weeping.

Shadows grey upon the wall,

                  climbing upward, lest they fall,

in some dismal, reeking hole,

'neath stone markers in the sun,

                   where shall beat the heart of One,

who must lie forever still,

while each hungry worm is feasting,

                  on the flesh of memories past,

spawned by love...which could not last.