Blackened sheets, Wet by bad memories. Blackened pillows, Stained by her tears. She gave up on the dream In the cruelest fashion. Still, I caught a drop of passion Just as bright as the gleam Fighting its way Past her gaze to her lips. For she whispered a desire To me, buried beneath the mire, To my heart, Torn apart, on the rise Of a setting sun, Of her face in my mind. I try to bury even further What will not release To be beneath The countless drops to rage the ocean Outside the subtler motions Of my quiet cries on the shore.