and I, who has kissed the eyes of her trees
laid bare my snow-flake skin
with pains of a sulking wood
grazed with the starving leaves of a mountains constant hunger;
beyond the chorus of her mind
within a single word of a thimbles prayer
the high breeze of her scattered crawl
as ebbed and flowed the cotton of her hair;
and I, who has walked beneath her dawn
scented the candles of her hands
followed the echo of her breath
deep into the shallow waters of a soulless moon;
lost behind the curtains of her arms
as her trembling heart flickered with the flames of eternal doubt
cast aside by the petals of lifes\' uncertain rose
as flows her blood through the veins of my own now weary heart;
and I, who has died beside her grave
danced with the chimes of her cathederal eyes
lost inside the darkness of unwanted despair
baptized beneath the skies of her one remaining tear;
with nothing left but the memory of her smile
she, who now walks beneath my dawn
will sleep in peace with the warmth of a one last midnight kiss
I will cry no more
and live forever in her heart;