Tears bled like a gaping wound

And my eyes, a blue lagoon,

Held none of them from the tide

My soul, an ocean returned empty

My cries, like wild birds at night,

And my agony, a descending light,

Found no mercy in its blackness

My soul, the last sound before sleep

Thoughts conspire like a lunatic’s dream

And my desire, a harmonious scream,

Evaded even simple complexities

My soul, a melody of unusual sounds

Heart beats, like whispers in a vacant hotel

And my loneliness, a midnight bell,

Heard only a single retarded throb

My soul, a vortex of hidden rooms

Darling, like white birds in spring

And my Own, a picnic bring,

Sit beside me and hold a silver candle

My absent soul, a path well traveled