Love holds a soul,
That which I cannot hold.
Because, the tear that was descending my cheek
Is falling from my chin, to meet my feet.
I would kiss the stains at my toes,
And hurl Hell upon new foes.
Their words had cut us deep, in our treatment of sleep.
Our sleep, our loving denial, and its gaze so sweet.
Love makes fame, when death creates shame.
Upon when I lost you, I knew myself.
A man of hazard, watching his heart, and never hearing its beat,
For I hold a nothing in my arms.
Once, an angel had drew breath after breath,
The humblest sighs.
Once, a form had made current after current, in joyous cries.
And, in the bleak aftermath, simplest tragedy shows its grotesque self.
My frail form, holds a tempest within.
Tear after tear, falls from the skies
Where once a Heaven had bowed to the surface,
Of us both, in the wilderness without trees.
We were lost among each other,
Happy among our weakest selves.
What are we, at this moment
Besides humble parasites, sifting at the paragraphs of time?