Slow down, this pitiful tear,
That has made, its merry mark, on my cheek,
I find it to be, too earnest,
And thwarting, from the sight, of someone, so vivid.
You have been beautiful, to this day,
A woman, as the moon, finally sees darkness.
The darkness, of a life
Turning, to death.
Go wishfully, to the naked forest,
And grow roses, in the bleakest parts, of that place.
Make me a blanket, of twigs, and deepest roots,
Full of berries, alike your eyes, like gems.
I am full of remorse, to the previous day,
I am a man, with many sides, to him.
And only a singular face, to ever kiss.
Show this tear, to perhaps a priest.
Let him shower it, with the contents
From God’s realm.
Fail me once more, why don’t you?
Curl upon me, with your body of silk.
You have eyes
Like the deepest, of green.
You have longing
Like the disease, that streams
From the nudity, of me;
Like my mind, that never seems, to heal.