Something wells
Up from the longest stream of pain,
The blackest shore
Of the tormenting void.

Something
So slender, that I forgot
Of you
That does not rest
So plentifully
In this wearied mind.

Your face,
A notion of something slow
To bury itself,
Stings me with clarity for a loss.

The eyes,
Those hollow cries,
Those other faces
That never depart, so readily.

You scream
Of the land’s defeat,
A quietness eludes you,
As I succumb to you.