Bereaving of the death of love, embraced by the cold winters of the absence, to beg and to have failed.
Let the lightning hit your heart, burning the memories of warm nights.
Its judgement weighs my soul, counts my value in pure gold.
And in the ravaging storms, he is at peace in your love.
His soul depart his heart to rest with the stars at night.
Let me rest on the sands of time when the salty tears linger too long.
Watching it thrive on dry earth, but not putting on watered vases.