The clock ticks slower
than the thousand waves crushing
your shadow, lilting your echo.
And i slumber alive inside the grave
you built, beneath my beautiful.

Then your stars start falling,
like sweet tears from the cloud
with winds you whisper,
they smile aloud.
They dream, of your fate,
and my fate, conflating,
creating their own bewildering dawn.
Their own glamour
Their own secret.