I paint the canvas red
And watch the waves all wash ashore,
It's a pity, such a pity
You won't see their colors anymore.

Eyes long past seeing our world,
That you left behind.
By force of habit, I still call your name out
Every night.

The brittle moonlight touches my mouth,
And I wonder how,
Cold your lips may be against mine,
If I kissed you now.

I'd never let them touch your body,
Or preserve it into unworthy ground.
I'll keep your last three screaming words,
In my dreams as my only favorite sound.

And I'll keep your eyes wide open,
As if there's so much more for you to see.
And remind myself that this was the only way
That you would stay with me.

Cathelynne Ross Walker

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mirth-of-a-madman/