He’ll Empty Out the Moon…

“Each man kills the things he loves.”

-Oscar Wilde, “The Ballad of Reading Gaol”

He’ll empty out the moon
searching for the shine in her eyes,
though he abandons in his wake the broken glowing shell.

 

He’ll pluck all the world’s roses
seeking the bloom in her cheeks,
though he knows that they, too, will wither and die.

 

He’ll spend a fortnight ringing church bells
hunting for the spirit in her voice,
though the bells, overused, will fall out of tune.

 

He’ll squint at books by candlelight,
reading between the lines to find the eloquence in her words,
though he tears out the pages for a better look.

 

He’ll dart like a shadow to the bed where she lies,
running his fingers over cool granite stone

to trace the letters of her name,
though his fingers, after time, will wear them smooth.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s