the heavy leaves stirring
at midnight;
a black figure rushing through the forest,
his head turned
to see a black wolf.
the sweat coming down the face
as the howling wind tore at his face.
a feeling. he knew.
she was coming to get him.
still running madly he turned and…
…boom! into the tree.
he fell into the mud, the dirt
seeping into his body. there was
nothing he could do.
she was coming down at him!
the strong and rough hands pulled
him up in the sky
and onto her shoulder.
the helpless feeling again
rushed through his mind.
countless minutes passed
through the Oblivion,
where skulls and corpses were staring
he could see her white gown
and her muddy feet.
the atmosphere was something he
could not bear
(hey! but what could he do?!)
until the heart
squeezed by the fear
began to breathe again.
they passed through the pool
from the misty shadowlands
into the care-free, sky-blue,
flowered, honeyed, beed countrylands.
he let out a sigh to see no wolf
(or in disguise)
but blue-rounded eyes
(and mouths) to point happiness.
where was he?
probably dazed by the sweet smells
of hers he forgot to ask for the map!
“because she’s killing me!” he thought.
alas!
they journeyed here to
see the fruits of cupid’s arrow
beware! too late!
he was shot dead through the
heart.
by the cupid’s arrow!