Your Eyes

when the time has
finally fled
and the day has
finally come,

we shall meet again
where the 
breeze blows with
salty breaths

that pierce our eyes
like cold
sharp shards of glass
of a sad vessel;

when the time comes,
and no more
do we have any farewells
to bid,

we shall meet yet again,
and draw our
names a constellation prettier
than the moon, but not your eyes.