Clearly Dark

The mental moonlight delicately steals the surface of my bitter mind and she, the gracefully sullen moon, seeps and claws deeper into the soul to leave a darker-than-black shadow of me on the trembling ground. So, why do my eyes, sky-bound and rapt, still tell me that they are looking at a wonder that lulled the nights silently into a fatal dream? Still - death has never felt more alive.