Tears, countless to be counted with fingers laced with boundless sentiment, to your flavor. For waters to savor, where you linger in an ocean I cannot remember, while hope is the thinnest blue strip, above the grains where we laid. We are mirrors to the other's eyes, an open window carved from the glass of widows burning from black, back into cries, to be the ocean's ripples. While messages at sea cripple, - in the fate of a hanging teardrop at the edge of where smiles stop. close to you, - Forgetful of the rain, of pain, of the iron curtains drawn upon the crystal scent to a sea decked in misery. Walking close, keeping the plea - to dine upon all particles of your history. To find what is divine - in your lost source, your desperate desire to reach past what the world can teach.