The Dark Bells.
The bells toll the hours since your demise
their soft chanting mimicking your voice as it
envelops the sky. Your departing words were
written on that wind, full of that same sour
promise and cleansing rain. The last
time I knew you, the belfry called only for you
and you left with your broken oaths lending
weight to your feet, making you lose the
swagger in your steps, replacing their proud
staccato with stifled moans against the floorboards. Your footsteps
failed to resound as you vanished into the night, my only clue to your
exodus the shadow you cast against the walls. I kept vigil over
your figure from my window, but the midnight sky swiftly
devoured your silhouette with the last midnight ring. Tonight
I listen for the cadence of words in the chimes, and tomorrow
I know there will only be the wind's transcendent fingers
to console my losses and the tollings to answer my
inquisitions.
