You had every right to take her
but she had no right to leave
on the verge of reconstruction
not even twenty-three
a face that fooled the masses
of the happiness defined between
such eloquently parted lips
never closing until their purpose was fulfilled.
and now forever her thoughts suppressed-
it is the true story of tragedy:
the theft of her beauty, of her breath
of the words she should have spoken
silent now amongst the wind and waves.
Scouring the ends of the earth to hear
just one more word spoken
oh, that voice.
To no longer see the gentle rise and fall
of her subtle curves,
like the subtle shifts of her being
so eloquent, so purposeful-
such a disaster to watch them
crumble to dust and scatter in the wind.
how could something so free,
consumed by the waterside
dehydrate so quickly?
now without, we drink down the dark of night
the fear-infected binge
to end this life that’s not our own
as we fall further from the grace
that some say is sure to lead us home.