Your eyes. 

They were a mixture of the sky and sea

and I often felt like they slung me from one to the other

With such degrees of intensity they gave me

Cold, daring. Loving, caring.

They continue to fall back into my dream.

 My mind is a watercolor painting

with your mixtures of brutality and delicacy

I often reminisce on how my paper heart held up to you

but I suppose at some point broke, because now all I can do is wallow

in the foggy memories of my innocence that I gave you

and the caring hands that once caressed me

Oh those eyes. They could make me do anything

I am no disciple.

 My backbone does not hold a cross

 I am a friend to the inner spirit, although.

No life lives with no essence of vitality.

I won't say a fair well.

You won't hear me say I'll see you in a harmonic paradise.

I will withhold my pain and agony.   

Cover them with warm memories, catch the echos of your laughter.

I am still uncertain of  your crisis,

but in time may I be given justification.

I will be able to look at our snapshots again.

Smile with no tears, and understand just why

you vanished without a goodbye.