Last Breath

Long, slim bones
scratch tracks down my
bare, powder-white back.

Strange, hollow knuckles crack
for want of blood
and make popping sounds
like distant fireworks.

My lilting eyelids tremble open
to my reflection in the window glass.
Bright white, pale-face Moon
hangs against a velvet backdrop
of pitch midnight sky.

The crackle of an extending posterier
echoes as the unfamiliar moves near.
I close my eyes again and finally sigh,
welcoming the cold stench at my bedside.

Soon
the fireworks grow closer,
jointed icicles clamp ‘round my neck
and embrace firmly
the fearless shudders of my last breath.

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Tags:

dark, night, poem, poetry, love, death, gothic, dead, moon and goth