Let me haunt your flesh To rise from its place beneath Soil and trees. I want to see how pale you've become, Of how solemn your eyes have been stained, Of how wishful your voice has hurried itself, Of how morbid it is, That those tears of yours merely hang there To never fall. Why has the sky passed a cloud Not to storm, Though give me you? Why have such droplets come down Singing frail verses, as upright epitaphs, Though never yours? Will you truly weep When the curtain closes To the shores of your life, Where wind grows faster than the stems root up To see where God left His kingdom. Love leaves a liquid trail For you to follow Towards the ocean, so hollow, Where trumpets flair, When evenings dare For another kiss to be piled against The beauty that does not change, against the tide.