postscript of love

the bloodshot moon scratched the horizon with its fingernails
like a corpse wanting to crawl out of its grave
and the sky cracked open, naked as a nameless
shade of twilight, and threw up poetry

midnight's disease crawled its way towards the atmosphere
as maggots fed on the evening cancer and
the still-born stars screamed a sacrilegious prayer,
resembling a devout nymphomaniac
in a typical urban legend whilst the
dysthymic sun spontaneously combusted
and cured itself with suicide

I supposed there was beauty in death- the slow decay of the earth,
the gentle whispers of souls that reached out their hands,
desperately yearning to touch your skin as you lit
a candle and uttered an epitaph while the dead
composed their own requiem from the cries
of those who lost their loved ones

and as I begin to drown within the dissonance
of letters dancing across this page,
my first breath still murmurs your name
like an asphyxiated angel caught in between
parentheses of torrential rain, burning
ghosts with just a kiss

.
.
.

© tiara ruiz fernandez