Moonlit things and heaven sings

And clouds begin to float away

The gruesome drip-drop of tears on a dark street

Rings bells all around

While they bury your angel wings

With drops of blood and black lipstick smears.

Clocks chime like lamenting fists

Banging on your tombstone, crying

To the slowly eroding saint with blank eyes

Carved above your dead body

She refuses to revive you.

She will not open your eyes

And sprinkle them with holy sunshine.

Beautiful grey eyes

Oh, how I would love to see those eyes again

Love to gaze into your eyes as you whisper

Words of hope and dreams

Your angel wings shielding away

The mourning bell tolls

The drops of blood plinking into the dark street

Your eyes.

Alive again.