Count your eyes Far from the deep blue Of this hazy evening. You have fault upon your own stars When you send the messages Through the wind. I can breathe what could be slept with, To be drunk off your stare. The little maid You once were, With eyes that darted towards horizons Where flame cast upwards, Danced like your legs Upon the somber frost Of windows, opened. You now lay there, for my hand's reach. I paw flesh That soothes all I have slept With the sheets caked in blood. All that drains from my eyes Is the color of the sun. Little mourning woman With your sigh, With your smile, Trembling like the leaf left frozen On the lane parted from the rest. Too many men have left you, Like the lakes below your chin, Where your hands have sifted within To discover memories of such deepest blue.