Closed

When love dies, it stands at the door
Like a cold and crying child wanting to come in.
When love dies, it is the seething poison in your veins.
The thoughts stand up like bookends
And holds the loneliness erect.
When love dies, it is only the soul of an echo.
When love dies, it erases the grace –
Every inch of faith.
The wedding band – the circle of love –
But when love dies, it is another circle closed.