She watched me with melting eyes,

veins like stems

on a dying meadow.

Life, slowling playing games

of freeze tage

and hide and go seek.

Lips curdling into ash,

the death of a mortal pheonix,

the parting of a crooked winged angel.

They gambeled on her breaths,

as though they were sections

to a forever spinning slot machine.

Keep your eye on the prize,

hope for the best...I guess,

But in all probability,

sections are never aligned,

the triumpth

forever gone.

And all they'd say in return is,

"sorry for the loss".