afterglow

Empty bottles reflect moonstained dust, might
form  fragile truths, sought delving deep in wine,
which question why we'd coax the pen to write
yet ensure that silence fall? In their new design

words weave a dimming cloak, each cessation
wrought silence upon silence, carved chilled
upon joy each unsounded implication
becomes mere monologue, now your voice is stilled.

No bells remained silent, nor did pen rage
upon sharp paper, scratch in abstraction
a parable, some caricatured refraction,
to comprehend the leaving of the stage:

words alone sufficed you, this facile art;
that camouflaged dissection of the heart.