Yearning the living, mourning the beginning,  

I hear your voice in the songs of birds singing.  

Down alleys and paths, of black and white roads,

Your sapphire apertures, heart filled with nodes.

I sonder and wonder, at what we could be,

If love wasn’t twisted, infested with flea.

I grieve at the grave of the ghosts from our past,

Swallowed by limerence and guilt of a ghast.

My heart wrapped in thorns, from stems of your rose,  

Piercing my arteries, my eyes start to close.

Reminiscing the life we once dreamed to have,

A future all planned out, left in the past.

Your whispers still linger, in the silence of night,

My body now frozen, your eyes out of sight.