With feigned resentment for the night
I struck a match, to draw the light,
And with it, summoned from the earth,
A blackened tear, given birth
Upon her aching limbs of woe,
Amidst a field of sewn sorrow.
I placed a hand upon a hand
To drag her from the second land,
Where she descended, just before
My hand could pull her heart ashore,
And now she lies upon the grass,
Her soul adrift, among the stars.
Although her heart is vacant now,
I take her hand and say the vows,
For she today would be my own
Had she not for the heavens flown,
Then as the veil is washed aside
I see my face in pale demise.
Within this sight, I understand,
It was my hand upon my hand,
And when my heart had stirred for her,
It was but me who caused this stir,
So now I ask, which one am I?He who lived or she who died?