blood moon

The Moon, a sickle cell, carves constellations upon my veins, Yet, my heart, a dying star, beats amidst a symphony of aches drenched in bloody memories,  A canvas of melancholic blues.  Each pulse, a stain of sorrow and misery, Memories of days i wished for no tomorrow, with no hope of reprieve. As my arteries burst, like fireworks, they ignite, My heart, now a withered flower, losing its light.  You devoured my soul, fueled my hollow core, With emptiness you created, forevermore. A void, profound, fills me with groans and creaks, Like a broken-down house where the worn-out floorboards cry in agony.  Beware, tread lightly upon the echoes of my despair,  For fragile threads of my sanity hang by a threadbare.  Within this abyss my mind tarnished by dark light and as my thoughts echo and fray, I continue my melancholic dance, where darkness has its way, where no ray is to be found, Left to rot with sorrow's silent sound.