While worlds remain Apart, Beneath, Over, We are the fog that does not lift From the lakes that make Our eyes. Your solace, Your peace Is soon to come, By the hounds that race Across valleys, Orchard, Lanes. I sense you in the dark, Your heart is crushed By the sweetest abandonment. For in all my pain, I have only ever tasted blood When we loved. I have only ever tasted my own filth. Tears run like extending miles Over the curves of your cheeks, Making the world's defeat Appear like the infant's wailings. You are someone stilled In the moonbeams. Why won't you bathe In what you have made?