Place a ring over Your pretty finger, I will do When the world caves in To show something for symmetry's sake. Just a face That was buried in strands of your hair. Messengers from the dark Write this tale upon the lonely harp That is the decor to our melody. Brown tresses, As the Earth's flesh. Eyes that swim as the widest lakes, With nostrils as the boldest calderas Emitting a rush of air, hot like desert winds. I speak for one woman's moment, While she was in the darkness. The deepest of all buried things Was her, where I buried my heart. How'd I'd love to place a ring Upon a pretty finger, Were it not bone, Were it not shown As something other than love, when alone. I taste the wind, It tastes of dust. I smell the air, It smells of her hair. I touch my throbbing bosom To feel the hollowness of something missing Where nothing can fill it.