in love he died

He scoops and lifts up his handful of vanity
A knee bends, petals wither under Katherina's table
Candies and a box of pain
Solitude, a stifling hug
Solitude of a dancing moth
Evenings thin as folly thickens on the he-brow

Passion crawls down the lifted hand
His heart grows weak, his frame ill
The pate,
His pate quivers as a sparrow beneath a threatening sky
Plastic roses and chocolates and wines,
Pizza, ice-cream - vanilla flavoured,
Stroll on the beach, hands locked, jaws locked
More ice-cream, more plastic, more wines
His pate heats up with pulsing febrility
Kathrina's cavern grumbles loudly from stranded moths
More plastic, more wines, more folly!
And a ring.

A ring?

Blood crawls down his frozen hand
The knee rises from the finished grave
Candies and a box of pain
Astride the distance she watches with her stuffed moths
In his hands rests a remainder of vanity and
love.