I am spent

brown eyes, tender lips - you are my muse

you, the sweet nectar which pours from the sun, filling my soul

I am left disheveled by your presence, absent of any thoughts but that of your clear form before me

my chest collapsing as your steps fade into the night

only the curves of you lead me to a blissful misery of truth and regret

I am spent

I am spent

I lament