Slick hands and locked lips let my love slip into the sea away from me and into her lovers beam.
Desperately wading through waters in
depths you cannot see.
She lived with no other thought than to love
and be loved by me. My Bella Noche.

We loved with a love that was more than a love
The kind that cracks spines of novels,
folds the pages with annotations
over our favorite parts
But our love was not as long.
And if as long, a tragedy.
The Shakespearean kind.
Although dark, beautiful. Bella Noche.

Neither the angels in Heaven above nor the demons down under the sea can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the
Bella Noche, my dream.
Passion lit with the brightest flame,
smoldering over all these wasted years.
I look to the stars and there you are
My Bella Noche, my dear.

The moon never beams without
bringing me dreams.
Always fleeting, forever gleaming,
smile beaming through her voice,
every picture I record,
You live there forever more,
my Bella Noche, my Lenore.