I am the wind along your cheeks
resurrecting
bitter droplets
to glaze
an endless white sea
surrounding
dark brown abyss
covered only fleetingly
by the continued
parting of lips
whose lashes
strike rapidly
in an effort to
delicately
cease
weakness from
reverberating on  your cheeks
Does not the brow secrete
pain?
Is not your agony
flourishing?
Cast my words to the breeze
truth lands heavily on your shattered spirit
I am the wind
that made thee weep
forgive me