Still of me.

Morning to sunset,
The sun will come and go,
And set on you, to,
Think about,
How you would,
Warm me, when I am cold,
And you are alone.
If only to know your voice,
In between the sweet,
The black,
The sky,
The water,
The bitter,
And sitting with you.
This would mean love,
In a way that only,
The moon,
And the void know.
Centuries from now,
You will see me, vividly,
Unknown to me.
My memory vibrant in,
Yellows, pinks, oranges, reds and blues,
In the space of gray that is you,
With prisms of white light surrounding you,
To guide you, Prince,
To love you,
Even long when the,
Still of me is removed.
…
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