A Funeral March (Revised)

Tonight I write a poem for your heart-
yet a funeral march plays
in the darkness of my mind.
The piano silences all my joy,
the air in the room grows and glows
with gloom and illuminated ice.
Tears will not forget the sorrow that
mulls in the pit of stomachs.
A heart knows no more songs to sing,
no more love to give, as a
nightingale flies straight into the heart
of the moon, red as the eyes of a mournful lover.

I will play this last song for you,
in the sadness of my mind.
Angels grace my light once more,
before they follow you into dark light.
Dark days reign over me,
dead drops of life flutter into the faces
of all who will die without your touch.

I see your eyes glaze over, silent
and still hearts become trapped in sorrow's gate.
This song continues, haunts our lives and screams
this terror into our lungs,
as I cry in mourning, in solitude.
Stars crash into the sea,
leaving their light behind, lost in a moment.
Now your heart is stone,
ripping your warmth away
as my mind drowns with the stars,
consumed by somber notes from the piano.

Your life has been emptied,
and I reach into my chest and remove a rose.
I hold your hand and place the petals upon your heart,
as they struggle to hold their color.
My love, my heart, and this rose-
all for you, as thunder reigns down and joins this song.

I sleep tonight in a ghostly daze.
No head will rest upon my chest,
no rose will bloom within my heart...
my love is at peace, sleeping in her
love-filled grave.
And I am left alone, to wither as I slowly fade,
with this funeral march trapped inside my soul.

Bring me home tonight.
Let me kiss you one last time,
as I finish this poem,
etched in a heart-shaped stone.