I went all the day,
and it was all fine.
But then the night came;
the darkness slides align.
Your image floated into my head,
invading my quiet mind
and my grieving heart:
A soul I long to find.
I’m searching for you,
seeking every inch of you in vain:
between the darkened sky,
between the sparks of pain.
And I wonder, if you are scattered
among the stars, across the night’s plane,
or exist in every red of my blood;
pulsing through my every vein.
Because my love for you is constantly
dripping through my fingers, just like rain.
From the depths of my heart onto paper,
I bleed ink – again, and again, and again.
You are as much a part of me as my own hands;
These hands, these two, who write for you.
And just like my love for you does not perish while I still breathe,
The ink between my fingers does not run dry while I still bleed.