Still-rain, wiping your drive from the eastern route. Enter mourning with the tears frozen on an encased face, falling expressionless. Count you, follow after the needle can thread a wound together, in the night, after everything received sight. In love, within you. Bleeding to a distant current, abstracting you. What keeps the sunlight beyond the sunset? We wrap, while we entrap. Arms have yearned more than eyes, more than lips could fall upon the flesh for taste. To the end of a mile, where tears are wetted in bitterness. A smile did no more to save than our solemn realization to find love depraved.