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You know how this is:
If I were to look at the moon, at the red branches and falling leaves of the slow, becoming autumn outside my window.
If I were to touch near the fire, the impalpable ash disintegrated, or the wrinkled body of a log or my fingers, or look out to the vast blue veil of the ocean like an outstretched hand, I would see that everything has carried me to you.
It is as if everything exists – these fantasies and visions; dreams so high and unimaginable, such aromas, lights, sounds. They are all like small boats sailing toward islands and shores of yours that await me.

Little by little, as the comings go and leave me, know that as the feeling flows, it drains me and all at once I find I have dived into your waters and lost myself.
If slowly you stop loving me, I too, shall cease to sing and will stop loving you little by little.

I know how this is:
If you were to suddenly, or over time forget me, do not search for me. I am not there. I have already gone.
For when you forget me, I shall too, have already forgotten you.
There I had thought it long, hard and dreamt about it madly, the series of winds and currents that have sailed and passed gently through my life. You decide to leave me here at the shore, standing amidst the dunes and horribly naked, pointing out toward the sea, and to my heart where my roots lie.
And on this day, remember, at that very moment, at that hour for the last time, I shall lift my arms and these roots of mine will be set free to seek another land. And someday our oceans will meet at our shores once again.

But until then, as each day passes and every hour treasured with memories and fond wishes is endured, feel you are destined with sweetness and desire for a younger meat, as if you were a flower climbing and blooming, to seek what you will, as I have done.
All this fire may be repeated, as nothing in me will ever be extinguished or forgotten. Continuously it will feed on you. Past has shown me not to ask for more than I have. You filled me to the core. I am no longer hungry. I am swollen with the ripe seed that was planted, and that which will swell and grow without you, to set more buds to flower.

I am tired. Soon, sleep will wash over me, draping it’s wings across my face and drown me like a heavy wave. I will cease to see. I will not hear you. And though I may long to feel you, you are not there. You do not exist. You have gone. In dreams you will visit me, from time to time, smiling and laughing with the happiness and innocence of youth. But you stand alone, for I am not with you. You joy is meaningless; a mask that hides your face and blinds your eyes from the sun.

The weather has turned and with it, you. I am ravaged like a dog in heat, fraught with a fever. In the early morning, right at the top of the beautiful view from the sky, I wake to the smell and awake, starting my day with the same habit. Starting the day, going through and remembering all this to feel happier and safe without you knowing. You were never awake, still throwing yourself at me recklessly like the waves far below me. The horrendous sound it makes, as they crash and my body slamming against your rocks. For as long as you live, it will be your arms without mine, and your solitary cliff.

Both the wind and sun were in the words you said. And although it was as if birds were singing and blossoms were budding in my heart, my eyes are stormy and my mind runs wild. This is a nice time of day, such a pity you’ve no words. I have nothing to say. I am flying over his thin imagination and out in the wind with a new medicine, with disbelief it looks as I imagined. His perception of the world seems somehow closer.
The sun is shining in my tear drops and his done everything for himself, with some sand and bruising, cock-tails of sorts. He’s been bouncing around, whilst I’ve not had any fun at all.