Death

The cold fire burns silently in the dark
As the creaking chair sings its croaking tune
A wisp of smoke escapes the fire in a spiraling arc
Slowly it floats up to the pale crescent of the moon

A slow dripping of water falls upon the silent shadow
And runs down its face like an ever-flowing waterfall
The light pierces into the cracked mirror like an arrow
Shining upon the floor and creating an image upon the wall

Soon the creaking of the chair comes to an end
As the immaculate figure silently stomps the floor
Entering the razed home whose time it hopes to extend
As the shadow opens the ghastly ghost once called a door

He enters the desertion and takes in a deep breath
As he looks around, its eyes darting around for an infraction
Something that can bring its beloved domicile closer to death
As it lets out a heavy breath, its ears tell it to listen

Creeping cracks crowd the floor below
As it lets out a cry of disgust, it runs to the ground
What did it do to deserve this; it did not know
Soon sections seep into the abyss, without a sound

As it descends, a sharp gasp exits its mouth
Sharp pain shoots up through its body
As it closes its eyes, it can feel itself moving south
Its eyes begin to clog up and grow unbearably blurry

As it feels death approaching, it remembers
When it creating its humble abode
So long ago on a cold night in December
With its other, to which it had always bowed

Before the other became a denizen of the mist
To which all it had left was four walls to keep a memory
Of what it loves, of what has ceased to exist
As it descends, it once more feels mighty

For it can finally rejoin its two loves
In the fire below, or the skies above.