Closure is a hoax,
it'll take lifetimes to forget you
or perhaps just the one
if I tried,
no matter what it is I do
there you are,
my subconscious bride,
closure is a hoax,
it'll take lifetimes to forget you.

Endless voyages
but this one you go alone,
I did too
then I couldn't come home,
neither will you.
My exile won't go vain,
for it was your liberation
from unjust pain.

Pages be poured out,
be torn out books,
they all append with
you getting her looks,
how alluring she is
and will always be,
reborn each time
with no memory,
the seed once was
or the fruit it could be.
Thieving a mere sight
here and there
is worth every bit of
the herd's pity.

An outlander gone astray,
a mile for each day
is now the distance
we're away,
in her mind,
on the map's line.

Morrow's dawn
when I'm reborn,
the well known lad
will be long gone,
there aren't many
who'll mourn,
those who will
shouldn't for one,
the metamorph
will be who they
all should've known.
Blessing or a curse
I'll take it with
in all my lives,
the eternal longing
will be one of my wives
except even death
won't do us part.

And then there was
A cliff's brink,
leap into the canyon,
plunge into the gape
to end up in her lap
beneath the banyan
or in vineyards of grape,
without a think,
let her fingers
run through your mane,
each strand rustles,
perhaps it'll always be fallacy
reality isn't profane.

Thou rustling of waves
is there word for me
ensnared in thy anatomy?
Perhaps an odd bottle
with a funny smell
but doesn't stench of reality?
Perhaps a precise note or
a drenched lump of paper really.
This island sure snared me,
yet another natal day
and seconds for eternity,
thou rustling of waves,
rouse me from fallacy
when there's word for me,
ensnared in thy anatomy.