Tears fall on a red coat
Like drops of dark blood.
A man in red, a lone sentinel,
Despite the figure beside him,
Keeps watch from the crest
Of a cold barren hill.
There is red flapping uneasily in the wind,
Submitting to the chill in a way
That its master never could.
Cold and lonely,
The shivering girl huddles against him for warmth
Apparently unnoticed by that single all seeing eye.
Yet it seemed somehow appropriate that she share her misery
With the unfeeling warrior...
She who so rarely feels misery...
His back turns to the biting wind.
Tears fall on a red coat
As he briefly envelopes her in folds of crimson,
Then wordlessly
Strides off
Leaving her alone on the hill.
Alone...
He sighs softly when he sees
Those drops of dark blood.
uh... well you see, in my case, Misery doesn't love company, Misery writes poetry. Thats about all I have to say about this... heh.