Hanging by a wire
the trickling sweet and deathly myre
Match strikes and
    conclusion.
Brought to senses
by the scent of mist
    and the fire
    Would that it burn a hole through me
    heal and
    ache.
I wait
I look to the north
She is there
Her star is the fallen one
It falls
on me
Bringing its deadly mist to my eyes and sealing them shut.