Endless kisses acted upon each day;
None entrusted unto me,
Fuchsia sunset as the clouds descend into night,
Fear upon loathing of loneliness
Yet I must complete my verse before joining another.
Fallen red upon the foothills like a desire of what is to come
What is to be has never been for if it has it is null
And bears no word in thy lexicon of love.
The waves are as verses as the flow gentle as they go
As a prose that seamlessly grows into excitation,
What drop of water upon this earth has gone to waste?
Yet it was none as so that which is my love waiting for the one.
The statue of woe is fixed and cemented in
so moves not with you but reminds you
of what has been.