Communion Souls Poem by Mark Heathcote

I'll never nearer know the graveside manner
of my bewitching lover's heart.
Or why she hurts with pride so sad,
as to make me worry in fear.

I feel I must mourn each passing-
minute, and in so doing, fall deeper
deeper into her residual sadness
deeper into her graves of silence.

I've taken communion of my lover's soul
and confided my heart unto her woes
for I feel no other woman's love
as yet within my ribbing bones.