All that remains are the tears poured into each sunset.
A tidal wave of moments potently glisten, dark diamonds of the night.
The rare solitaire deeply cut, eternally ghosted by it’s lack of forever.
Floating on an empty lake, still able to drown in it’s diluted depths.
Mouth to mouth, not for survival, salt water lungs, pleasure sought revival.
Roughly cut, bounancy unaided, cushion pinned, hopelessly deflated.
Nothing remains apart from the hope poured into each sunrise.
Dawn without it’s calling, it’s talking to you.