A pool filled with moonlight
painted red
overflowing
the deepest shade of red
Dim rays flickering
Like a candle in the howling wind
through a window long forgotten.

Ashes ghost the edges of
a letter crumpled
with regret
The clock ticks
Deeply resounding in that little room

All too late,
the light spills in,
pours in like a broken wine bottle;
thick and sweet
fleetingly; just fleetingly
until there’s nothing left

Nothing but emptiness

The light spills in,
All too late.

As the little room was
painted red
overflowing with regret

The deepest shade of red.