The Shooting Of A Beloved’s Killing
An art of Love; showing one’s lover posing for another art on a wall, as if performing the bombardment of a sailing ship.
Heaven, living far above the dead
Would come to separate what Your soul is
From an overflowing bleed of my dying heart
Sinking deep within an eternal abyss
As I alone fall into hands of darkening beings
Asking where is the light when I love one?
Will my bones hold onto factures before grave?
Should I be commitment to end the last of me?
Or may I choose once more to be a sailing ship?
Which You thought fun, downing me with headshot
Burning, even when the waters willing to help
Your laughter at my demise, is a medicine I need.