Lament

Nightfall upon a day in yearning.
Dead and dreary, in love and spirit,
I fall drunk into doleful dumps

Crying out the bitter dregs
within my love-loss heart.
In my restless state, I lie and lament

In air, molasses thick,
flowing damp and warm
about my moistened body.

The moon is full and
pregnant with light in onion white,
but dimmed within the clouds and fog.

And she does not naught to soothe my heart,
welled with lovesick bitterness,
as it turns to stone in nimbus mist