Each Night

Each night I sit on a hill, with a tombstone and watch a bright orb rise my mind falls silent until I find the face of my love floating between dim-lit stars my soul wanders to the day she died and I laying across her grave Each night my arms rise to greet her fingers stretched, trying to touch her face they fall and curl one by one as I begin to weep bending into a ball of grief For eleven years my heart has spilled upon the Earth for eleven years I have cried this dim-lit realm of pain will end I am absorbed...I am lonely I am worn down to the essence of my being by memories This night the bright orb will rise and I will watch it for the last time as I will weep no more As the morning's dew will find my cold silhouette laying across her grave with purple lips