A Man Lone in Love

Beauty recedes
As the ocean and its fluids
Upon stark shores,
Masking us in its amassing plenty.
I still hold your hand,
Despite my eyes upon this dark ocean.

Each recession,
Each regression,
Is like swallowing another tear.
And each wave against my feet,
Is like one drop upon my knees,
During when I am curled up against defeat.

Love should hold hands with love,
Beauty should be the fragrance of this sea.
And yet, I stand firm to believe,
With sadness upon my worn face,
That I’ve left anything noting simplest grace,
To where my tears drain into this cruel sea.

It runs against my feet,
And marks coldness on love’s heat.
My hair and its straw-like texture,
Is so alike a desert, alike the sand behind me.
Shall I join the edges?
Shall I see to where I am destined to leave?