Silence

I met her in a dim-lit room. Beside myself,
I was enraptured by her simplicity, and
conquered thoughts left astray long ago by
her grace. She was lovely, draped in a ricochet
of blood pounding through my veins. She held an
eerie familiarity in her thin, bony arms and
grinned a night sky of stars. I watched with awe as
she sat close beside me, so our knees just barely kissed.
Yet we were distant. Both of us: lost, in longing to be
found and worshiped like the gods that molded us in spite.
She held modesty between two elegant fingers
that dusted the surface of my very being. It was, at long
last, kind. I listened eagerly to the melody laced in her
voice, and swayed to the beat. So soft, so merciful.
Yet she fumbled a B flat. Bustling cities and harsh cries
stirred like parasites in the pit of her belly, leaving
gratitude beneath vice. Yet my lady held that night sky
between two pale, white lips. She curved them, humbly, returning
to a forgotten melody. And I, unbeknownst to myself, struck
her cheek in an attempt to match her kindness. Apologies skid
crimson across her skin and heavy breaths drew gravity. Yet
still, she sang. Beneath my sound she sang, distant, and pulled
our knees apart with care. She filled her lungs with violent air
and peeked at me with bright blue eyes, blissfully curious.
She breathed last when I uttered her name.