Let loose the tendrils To your chestnut locks That twist sideways, Curling towards your eyes, Leaving sparks of this very lust That clouds life into a moment, frozen in the wasted Years of our plentiful time. You have beauty that exists, Though does not exist. You mark your path through an entertainment Of many forgotten hearings From my own mouth. I trace my way over your form, Like the ridges to jutted landscapes. I open myself to you, Mistress of the night and the dew That walks atop the petals, Among the grass blades, When not wishing to fade Away with the currents that smile Edges away from miles. You have beauty to surround yourself In a cloak about your shivering form. You are the love that goes missing From the equation of my certain world. Existing and not, Brought down and bought By the ongoing lust of quivering flames. Will you speak of the Hell we regret to save From bodies that do not mean to fall Directly to the grave? Your eyes have the universe in their standing Atop a nose that does not breathe The scents of a million Heavens.