The Island Of You

It's a ship of the seas, this island I always find, in my dreams,
and although you're not here with me anymore, somehow my mind always finds you there
surrounded by the beauty of o fantasy world
burning the hearts of men
and smiling, murderously, towards every sailor that lost their love's name
far far into the storm of their hearts doubt.
The last two pages of the journal, are dedicated to you my love
siren without a voice,
and woman with many names and faces,
I haven't write them yet
as the future becomes not, what I thought to become
and what you secretly hoped I would be.
The ink I need, to write to you,
is not here, is somewhere on the bottom of the sky
and the sky is falling in love with you too,
just like everybody else.
Funny how, even my hate, loves you,
as I grieve over the place where your love,
the love that I needed, lost it's identity, and became unclear to you
unbearable
and miserable.
It's late, almost eleven. Good night.

by A Waltz For Zizi

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