Make the rain wash me
From this idle pain.
For she has gone down, like a star
Whose light could not hold itself
Up, among the dark.
She shivered, before she expired
In my hands, in the night.
I fell two drops from swollen eyes
Those, that have cried many nights
Into the ground, into the soil, and into the Hell I call home.
Forever blocked, by pain that will not sweep itself
Away into the current, called death.
I am unable to avoid
The glance in her eyes, that faced me with terribleness.
I drew a color over my mind, and I am ignorant of it.
Death has a kindness,
But, I cannot curse it, further,
Because, she belongs to it,
And I cannot wish it to be buried, and forgotten,
Because, she is there, too.
What was this love, that I tried?
What was love, before she had died?
Beauty stings only on the inside
After love has left where it did reside.