The Lagoon

It is black and cold,
The smell of death lingers
Above the still waters.

The plants are all dead,
And the trees reach to the sky,
Like dead skeleton fingers.

It is a dark place,
With decay in the foggy air,
And water black like the reaper’s veil.

Everything in it is dead,
Or gone, like the life
From your rosy cheeks.

Our first and last,
You, my one and only,
Lay at the bottom in the silt.