She was a rose, still in youth,
unfettered by thorns, unfurled;
and was the guile of her want
as a crescent moon in summer;
she grasped at sighs once borne
with unsanctioned days of us,
that with a whisper, might fade.
Pouring herself into my hands,
her submission was relentless,
flowing crests of ocean waves;
and was her ardor unparalleled,
as the vastness of sky above
is unrivaled by the widest sea,
her spirit outweighed my own.
And in her final days on earth,
burdened by the tides of woe
which ebbed daily in her mind,
she carried her heart as offering,
willing to surrender it full to me
with e’en my slightest implore,
and I dared not deny such a gift.
Then, came her sudden remorse,
the sky quaked with her breathing,
her faint heart, now weighed upon;
with her last breath, she trembled,
in her fall, a mountainous weight;
and for a moment, earth was still,
so implosive was her final sigh.