I follow your sight,
From where you’ve shielded a pair of eyes.
A breathy note,
Has now encapsulated you,
Has made you small,
Has made you wanting.
I am but the smallest farewell,
To an eternity of blue,
A dismal song kept faraway
To the oldness of a yesterday.
A beautiful memory
That is doused in searing pain.
How your hair has grown!
Young one, how your hair has grown!
Beloved one, do not weep when mourning hits Earth,
Deal damage unto me,
The one who has kept us apart,
The one who has thrown us astray.
There is but a tress,
That hangs neatly upon your shoulder,
It folds so evenly,
That I seem to barely notice.
It holds up what bit of air,
Has been the breadth of your breath.
It reaches only to the frailest skin,
The woman who I’ve come to know is mine.
Dream no more,
When we dine upon our own blood,
For memories are but fluid, in contrast,
To a future made of stone.