If there were a lock to this key
and If you swore to be honest
then no breaths were quite wasted
beneath the night's bitter harvest
and it made your blood thicken
manifest by pale light
silent words the moon screamed
as he bled himself white
and my face fell in shadow
except the stars in my eyes
and I howled with the moon,
'I came here to die'
Wes Thompson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/never-swear-by-what-cannot-cry-on-it-s-own/
