Some tell me to bury you deep,
Some tell me to drown you in sleep,
Some tell me to give you away,
They always go back in dismay.
They ask me perplexed, "Why,
But why do you keep it nigh,
When it leaves you bleeding and sore?
Like the day, that the night, does devour."
I say nothing but stare, with empty eyes,
Where the rivulets of dreams now run dry,
And I fear, that if you shall depart,
With you, shall leave forever,
The vestige of my soul, my art.
I was thinking about this poem on the bus on my way back from lab. Came home and saw that my new camera has arrived. And boom! all melancholy out of the window. Was barely able to salvage the poem :D