Empty

I remember how it feels,                                                                                    

Descretion running down my face,

To be left with emptiness,

Leaving Broadness,

Living Grace.

It is he, whom roses praise,

The one with crystal eyes.

The moon, a crecent mark of dawn,

Looks down on him and sighs.

I thought I smelled of fall to him,

Of spices rich and pure.

But now to find that I am lost on him,

Oh, frosted eyes alure.

I wish he would come back to me,

Take once again my misty sighs.

But on to greater things he runs,

Leaving behind my liquid crys.