A Cold Validation

Love cries out through the windows of her heart. Where each pane of glass has now been broken. In a soul that would cherish this upstart: Her heart wilts frozen and bleeds red like Canaan. Each sash cord cut adds a jail bar—more. In deserts, thrown near suns of ash and dust She wails and tears as if for a musical score. Instruments symphonic; symbols of lust crash tuneless, like the wings of a flightless bird. A fallen angel to a godless world Love, bloated once a carrion corpse curd. Walk's now among the living dead, her heart knurled. A thimble that no needle thread can repair. Such as the wounds we desperate lovers wear.