Jealousy that thing which
Floats without a care of where
It lands nor upon which one
It will encroach but with that
Desire which burns deep
Within itself for the destruction
Of possibility and it is this
I perceive in your eyes of
Darkness and sorrow beneath
That vail of lies for has not
Your heat stopped beating
And your mind died in the
Brightness of loves inquiry
Oh how sorry does clutch
To you with such meaning
For you have been many
Places in the company of
Each other at the breaking
Of spirits past by