Stillborn

The edge of the moon

Is not jagged tonight

And the skin on your hands

Is a startling white

Your smile is a dagger

And your black eyes are wet

With a heart in your pocket

And a blank silhouette

Scissors slash at the page

Down it falls like dead snow

And I cry for you, dear,

As it drifts to and fro

I look closer at you

What a sceptre you are

In my daydreams, you chatter

And glint like a star

The day that you died

With the squeal of the wheel

And the tinkle of glass

And the foul crunch of steel

You twisted and flickered

Smoked up and were gone.

When they showed me your body

Sallow, still, peaceful. Unbruised.

I knew you'd moved on.