There is no greater tragedy then
that which slips from our fingers.
Without reason or rhyme,
without tender goodbyes.
Your eyes filled with the sea,
your heart ebbs with the tide.
Those things that whisper soft,
that tickle the skin
and are lead by desire.
Fill dreaming minds, with lush waves
of the sweetest afterglow.
Any reasoning why, flew away
on the dark wings of the night,
and carry no weight.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
There is no greater tragedy then
that which slips from our fingers.
Without reason or rhyme,
without tender goodbyes.
Your eyes filled with the sea,
your heart ebbs with the tide.
Those things that whisper soft,
that tickle the skin
and are lead by desire.
Fill dreaming minds, with lush waves
of the sweetest afterglow.
Any reasoning why, flew away
on the dark wings of the night,
and carry no weight.
