How many storms can follow us home, How many deaths can prove us undone By the faces so cubicle, So box-shaped, without a curve for expression's sake? How many lacking humanities Can pull us down to hollow and empty graves? How many discarded breaths Can flood the fields with uncertainties? You had your thoughts craving The smile upon the apocalypse's shoulder, While I drenched the shoreline With thorns that did not matter. I sought to lift up The reverence, I beheld, to your reign. When it rains I will send a signal from my eyes, From the lighthouse. Keep your face hovering above the waves. Say to me, that you shall be There, for me to see. You are in loving contrasts To contours that magnify your radiance. The outline, so silver as a veil. Still me, beneath your moldering shelter. Bequeath for me, roses that are to be left for your grave, As I send for myself, the tulips that soil can kiss. Love is the racing heart, The darkened clouds that receive porcelain light, A touch of warm skin, where blood flows in freedom. I want to be Next to you, for you to see The hovering halo, atop my skull When I am buried beneath your light. A stolen texture, A stilled dream, A deadened gleam Because, what we had, could not be Beneath the falls, the solace of smiles uncrossing.