Sonata's Moonlit Touch

It is the late nights in the dark of our minds
where creation peers.
The moonlight sonata strikes a match against my heart
and blows out the light with winters chill.
Sorrow lines the walls, begins to seep from every pore
the music of the night lingers over every painful stroke
fingers broken in the moonlight
aching bones crack in its shadow
light flows like tears over the moors
the marshes overflow with melancholy
and mist pours up in a swell of frailty.