I burned my tongue once
praising the saints of Men,
For they have provided but a scarlet letter
to the strongest of sexes.

I endured the darkness
hoping to see stars,
But all I saw is the Abyss
and it is staring back.

He looked at her like she was the sun,
in that, he never looked at her except in frustration.
Basking in her warmth; complaining in its absence,
still, looking at her fails his minute admiration.

On days when she feels strong, he hid
on moments that she is muted, infuriating.
He never looked, that he never did
not until she was already leaving.

And in the crimson landscape that she had left behind,
the beautiful sunset, burning the oceans of yore
With a pang of regret from the back of his mind
He wondered, why he had never seen her before