bereft and forlorn

hopes to me now are no more than a dying sun
so scarce for me a love that loves another one
with each grace in the world you bring
there's not an emptier song that i could sing...
...if my hand is not nestling in yours
if my sands are not laying in your shores


i have never wanted anything i couldn't have as much as this


as how a crescent moon awaits a perfect full
alas, time to me proves to be no less than cruel