How shall I endeavor to cry,
when these tears are far too old
to wash away the tortured stain
of what was once your lips’ last kiss?
How unyielding does the moon
continue to reflect light of the sun;
the tide of which still calls to me,
long after day has left it cold and alone?
How do these strained tears
give sheen to that empty moonlight,
when all other drops of summer’s rain
merely obscure this unwedded moment?
Why must I still breathe uneasy,
when my breast has been unburdened;
’tis but the weight of this empty space,
the chasm left by your goodbye.
And in this unendurable midnight,
when e’en the stars hold no lasting sigh,
how shall I find peace in solitude,
when this hallowed sky so adheres to me?