Scythe of the Crescent Moon

Her eyes were too clear,
all heart,
her intuition.
I fooled them only
for a minute
them only
and then only as they were happy to believe…
for as long as she could
like they were green
and blue with burnt circles,
old soul precious hearths
punk wood left and thrown in
smoking to the death of fire’s ring.

Then left…too long
The effects…slept off under crescent moon light
having crushed…the grass and dirt
shutting out…the blue impression of youth
and that…falling down crush of hope
except that…which lived forever falling
but not…taking the disk not centered
too sweet…to call off the spike naked dog
to bite…the take of biting all
but in…to fighting the fall of explanation
summering out…warm in loss and expectation
abandoned now…lost in the timing
abandoned now…mist below the scythe and above the skein