'sadness poem number 54 aka lent et grave'

flashing blue lights
and you presume death

or the birth of
an underweight child

and the night continues
with only you

testament to the tears
of a thousand eyes

the dream of being
born bohemian visual music

falling softly salty
on to her full lips

brings you the presence
of your loneliness

deep in the woods
of a flowery gothic

with only shoes
on your hands as you

cross the desert
that separates us

for now and forever
an empty waterless ocean