for there never was
and never will be
a finer vagrant soul
to poetically allude me
than the billows of notes
that fall from your shade
and the stars in your lips
to sing a thousand serenades
dear, if only i could compose
about all my woeful throes
in lights enchanting as yours
no word a wasted recourse
and the aesthete that lies
beneath restless amber eyes
will dream up a promise
for fallen eternity’s premise
where the universe spins
as relentless time should be
and no whispers of parallels
between the lines of you and me
i’m quite dizzy from the sun again
but i’ll close my hands, count to ten
and wait against such fragile hope
that you’re the sunrise to decode
so why do i weep, ever still?
in the midst of my bedroom floor
only bare remnants remain, until
a voice paints a distant nevermore
of faithless keep, an endless rue
tomorrow’s heart, nor i nor you
southern nights, quaint afterglow
the days pass on as we’ll quietly go
i may be weary, yet do not think
i’ll give up when i’m on the brink
let’s chase the wind, and we’ll ascend
to an everlasting paradise we can spend
for there never was and never will be
a finer valiant soul to poetically allure me
than the muse of the moon and billowing notes
that fall from your shade and the stars that you wrote.