She built a Sky Lover

Searched beneath the stones;

Dried blood trickled through 

The skin of his lovely bones.

Piece by piece 

A hand, a foot, a head, a heart;

He scattered his soul like sand in the wind 

Grasping the air for brand-new parts.

But the clouds could not help him

Nor the birds or the rain or the storms;

Maybe the touch of her final healing hand 

Could build a new man, a reform. 

The hand of which was now his 

Sewn-on with a string of his torn muscle 

But the very floor below them 

Shatteringly started to rustle. 

His volcanic view 

Finally exploded from the ground;

Skipped off into the distance 

Until neither of them could be found.