Heaven's Bed

A wistful look upon his wilting face as he stares deeply into the moonlight, perched on his inconspicuous doorstep,

The mauve glow of the sublime sky that looms upon him like the devil’s drape, awaiting to feed on the decrepit wreck,

He gently whistles a subtle tune that could soothe a chaotic traffic jam of millions, silencing the vibrant horns,

Whilst he rises from the jagged, chilly step and limps away from his deserted, tearful house seeping into the forest thorns,

He scrutinizes the irresolute trees that rest upon his shoulders weightless and lifeless, as if they were just lingering smells,

His trembling wrinkled hand, possessing a small gun that would unwillingly take his insignificant life before the chime of God’s bells,

As he approaches the blackened lake obnoxiously, he perversely smirks at his angelic pale wife that lays there motionless – dead,

Gently bending his fragile spine he meets his wife’s blackened lips, and mutters gently “We shall unite again in heaven’s bed”,

Instantaneously, a single tear drags down the side of his impotent face, with a sudden flow of visceral emotion he stands tall,

Deepening his glare at the red fire of light, bringing the diminutive yet compelling pistol to his delicate skull, to fuse and fall.