The Funeral Portrait

You wait by the window, morning's breath on the sill. Idle hands given another try, so you wait and you savour the moment. Outside the canvas turned white, ruby eyes in the fog. Rain washing clean all the sins, a liquid gown that covers all. Your loathe turns endless, opened mirage soothes your sense. Locked on the pinnacle, the best secret within! Like a derelict child heart burning for a stranger. Ascending to the meek, flock round the liars in awe. Caged in the soil beneath, fear me when we meet. Turn away in admiration, my firm grip round the nucleus of joy. Enough of this, you will leave me now. You will see it now, perish at my hands. Close to you, tangled up in hair. Fresh stigma looks, shall I take you with me. And it is cold, ruby eyes in the fog. It is me! And you are just like them all, stained by the names of fathers. I'm greeting my downward fall, leaving the throes to others.