black feather

 
dark clouds and an electric pole
your smile a silhouette black as Cole
rays battle the storm
for light follows your shadow,
delicately shaping your form
How i adore your glow
we levitate and sway to and fro
but
my heavy eyes despise
the falling dreams
of the electric fire
the shape of what deems,
one less crow
left on the live wire
it came with the storm
with melancholia to conform
squawking its the end of the empire
as words burn in desire
radiating the heat from their ashes
i breathe in the smoulder
blink with frayed eyelashes
and whisper
unto your skin
feel it within
our lives have ended and begun
we are golden in the sun
and silver in the moonlight
but alas the crow squawks
in such spite,
malevolent ringing stalks
in a tune deeper than earth
it sings a song that stings
heard by none since birth
one black feather upon your head
For I am the messenger of the dead.