So unrecognisable was my beau,
Mindless as an ugly bird, a crow.
Slick like oil, the black birds peck,
Leaving anchored a lonely shipwreck.
The eyes! The eyes! Such juicy eyes;
Clouded colours asking countless, whys?
The mouth, it never says what is means,
It’s in the eyes you read their in betweens.
Those little lies and truths they think,
That make heads hide or dumbly blink.
Their body held so tight and unfeeling,
Bring ravens flocking, squawking and squealing.
Now the face turns a rare shade of cold,
Flouting the scald of their lover’s scold.
Crackled and wrinkled skin now splits,
Failing to save some resounding hits.
The ins come out from an opened sore
And weep remorse for three days more.
By now the hands have quietly shook,
Words and feeling from that stoic black rook.
Gently now the bird calls will come;
Softer still the heart strings shall strum.
Black wings will spread to wrap around,
The death rattled feather on the ground.
