Augusts’ dark dying

The sirens pass by the
lived in shadows
Frozen, the streets that
could have been wider
he had perceived

His dying was going to
be messy with noise
Surreal my mindset he laughed
with a pained expression,
so saddened to be leaving
her alone
Against an August world
still dark, unsafe.

What could he give now?
what thoughts I find at
the strangest of times
he muses,
wings on feet to soar a gentle voice
or lion’s roar
how could he love her? finally
What timings indeed he’d coughed
and did faultlessly bleed

Was she jewel of rarest stone
or mere female of skin and bone ?
What mirth he finds in dying
with serious intent
could he have written a script
so to wondrously invent?

But alas the cold he does feel,
as she holds him as if to warm
Oh for a devil with a deal
never to leave such beauty to harm

But no, the last cough before
he faintly hears her scream
that sad cold August