The Widow

The Widow
By Ryan Johnston

The crooked smile, of the Halloween moon

Breaks like a glass wave, high above me

Heart shaped shards, fall like rain

They're cast on me. Meant for me

Early, like a birthday

Confined, and set aside

They fall into my eyes, like scenery

Cutting me to ribbons

Glossy. Shiny. And pure, like pain

You pull them back to space, like a tsunami

Next time, you will devastate

Next time, you will annihilate

In you, it's the silence that is deafening

In my ghostly gaze,

I spot the only tree I see

It's body twisting, like a crashing car

Away from the obtrusive eyes

Of the coliseum sharks

Dying. Not at peace, not for sport

But always alone

It's shuttering leaves, flail out to the crowd

Rabbit from the hat, lady cut in half

But the magic, is long gone from this place

The trunk is the heart, 

Beating out from the ground

The infinite time of youth, 

Now a clock winding down

Bleak, like a cracked, unmarked headstone

Carved, by the icy hands of winter, if no one else

It's branches like a skeleton, with too many hands

Writhing and tangling, like snakes in the wind

But, it's the coldness of mirrors, 

That turn me to stone

The grinning moon, tall in her high heels

Dressed up like a widow,

Her veils hang like dark clouds

Glowing underneath, 

From the secrets that she keeps

Tonight, she slivers like a piece of a torn sponge

Soaking up the misery of this dying world,

Both with, and without, gravity

The tree and I are quaint, like neighbors

Related by a simple commonality, 

Of waking in this place

But we are not friends, we cannot trust

In feeding that emotion

We both fly, far away from the nest

Leaving hungry mouths

Our hearts have been scarred

 By our mistakes, and our regrets

The widow moon only fills, like a balloon

Growing whiter, and brighter