Sun goes down the littoral,
Painting shadows on the sky.
If skies could tell stories,
Tonight it's telling mine.

The orange molds memories,
Language of love,
Beautiful stories,
But swiftly slithering to mauve.

The vast blue says torment,
Rivers I've cried,
Sleepless nights,
Tears that have dried.

But when the blue will turn black,
It'll scream pain.
As the memories erase,
Loving I'll forsake.