What a curse these mortal hands are-

Everything slips through my fingers if I weren’t anything:

Just like you did on that cold winters’ night.

The snow pounded as heavily as my head did that night

Its screams became too much to bear-

And so, I tumble under the grief,

For I was always bad on my feet.

I remember all the starts collapsing on themselves that night

O, how the snow reminded me of ash,

Scattered across the sky:

it reaches out to us so-

just as God did to Adam.

But I refuse to let you out of my grasp

yet, you went anyways-

Just as dawn turned to dusk.

It was as beautiful as an encaustic painting,

With hues of purple and baby pink,

But I suppose, every dog has its day.

And I rocked you in my arms,

As hard as enervated arms could rock,

And you still slipped out of my grasp.

My reflection turns itself over,

for whom else can bear to face me?

I stare into a meaningless void-

O, how it swirls in anticipation:

I am all but reminded of all that could’ve been

And I met with the same blow Laertes met,

Yet I be no bolder and leave it lodged there,

In my chambers of secrets.

Would you believe me if I said it was wrapped in lace

Rather than gold?

For I have already been poisoned,

Why not mine organs-

What use are they to me?

It all but beckons and consumes me all at once

Everything I admire turns its shoulder to me.

Am I meant to love from afar?

I am but the clot in your blood

Watch as you view me with such wide eyes,

I am but a joke that writes itself on the walls

I am everywhere and nowhere.

Tell me,

Will you place me under an angel of grief statue,

Back where we met-

Just under that willow tree.

Only now you will thou leave me forevermore

In this wicked head of mine

We simply were never meant to be-

Yet, you dragged me down to my sickened knees.

What a tight collar you had me on-

All you had to do was tug,

And I’d become the dog you’d need me to be.

I’m all bar and no bite-

But you always liked that, didn’t you?

And so, I tumble under the grief,

For I was always bad on my feet,

Everything slips through my fingers if I weren’t anything:

An echo in history that haunts the prosperous lips of lovers-

How they scream out ‘evermore’.

O, my darling.

Bury me under this willow tree for all eternity-

And let me die the fool I am,

Not the fool I ought to be.

“Pulvis et umbra sumus”,

It is all we are.

Let me go slowly into my death

Just as the waves slowly to the shore.

For I was meant to be a swan:

“Amoris pretium luctus.”

And so, I’ll pay my price.

For an eternity.

Let them scream evermore.