The Perfect Sense

The Perfect Sense

It makes sense
that this tide weaves into silver drops
and it washes the poison buried deep in the water of heaven

It makes sense
that you would weep with despair and agony
for there won't be another cry enough
to mold the majestic palaces of the joy you feel so secretly

It makes sense
that you wonder in so deep
to sleep at night
to caress this restless starlight
that has been sewn upon your veins

It makes sense
that you and i will cease to love one another
whence the heart should finally cease to linger

It makes sense
that my throat rages on, when my eyes are deformed
for the tears will no longer shed

It makes sense
that no one here knows your secrets
for your breathing is like the rain that
encourages the sunlight
to dawn every moving day