Poetry / "-Death's next of kin." - my first proper poem [5]

-Death's next of kin.

Each footstep deep into the unpeopled night,
no time for scorn, or remorse or pain.
Enshrouded by the hum of woodland winds,

He turns, then turns, and turns again.

Deep below the moon's deceiving rays,
Death's next of kin begins its war,
unknowingly he takes the stars
for his witnesses - open behind closed doors.

Real dreams of guilty joy ecstatic as the temptress dies, she is no longer.
Snuffed and stuffed by the bloodless shade that howls in its cave,
Hunger suppressed and aegis destroyed, a once fine poppy
is slaughtered and gone. He blinks and sighs as he lies her in the grave.

If you can understand what it is about well done :D