Beyond the shores of melancholy,
there was a time I held your hand.
My heart now bears an untold story,
like a ship at sea, that longs for land.
A great untruth, my lips have borrowed,
a boundless treasure to line my chest;
The wealth of words are in their sorrow__
and words are all I can bequest.
We remain unwritten through history,
no x will mark us on the map;
but in books of prose and poetry,
you loved me once in a paragraph.
And your love has left me, on this island,
it has filled my cup up to the brink;
Yet I grow thirsty in this silence__
there is not a drop for me to drink.
~lang leav
