With your cotton eyes and dyes of dusk
Sunsets, moonlight, bangled hands,
And centuries of wait for another moment
To arrive
What tangled tales these words weave
With your purple dreams and silks of skin
Memories, wishes, unthinking kisses,
And wistful songs that last all night for you
Who are gone
Words cross those skies sometimes at night
And lay down beside those lakes on mars
They ask me if my pages will fill
All of the Blue-god's emptiness within
Words burn with fires from afar,
Neither light, nor ashes, no space, nor traces
Of someone who had brought down my world
From faraway stars into unending lines
And when silence comes,
it dies; Many deaths
as I weave tangled tales
Of a joy that lived once
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