This Soul's Heart

This soul's heart is left in lengthening shadows of evening, nothing to take from it, as there is nothing left. Tears, have constantly been allowing all emotions to run through them and out into the opening waters of the ocean. So gently, hoping for a faithful friend to come and sit here close without touching the grief being held in palms of these two hands. Votive candles having been lit and left burning, flickering into the darkness of this night, taking all blessings from this morning's sunrise. Hopefully trading them for just one more hour of life, so solemn and ardent in it's fatalistic demise. Forming a passionate rose from interior crystal tears, allowing it to captivate imagination. Giving it to intellect to hold, smelling a sweet saddened aroma of sorrow beheld for a final moment. Without it's mysterious hold captivating the energy of this once beautiful essence of a poet. No longer now to be heard, muses of her kind and gentle passion have been put to sleep. Folding papers, closing a final book of prose, laying down her poem, life returning once again from whence it once began. Never to be touched by another's heart throughout eternity. again.