Lands Not Tread

“
Everything is quiet now,

The dark departs without a sound,
So I will try to come around,
And have our little talks.
I never thought you less a man,
So I will guide your ship to land,
I’ll try to lend a helping hand,
And have our little walks.

The sea remains the grayish threads,
Of words replied and things unsaid,
The soft decay of lands not tread,
Is heavy in our souls.
And yet we lay with quaint recluse,
And tighten grips around the noose,
Our hands—they pry the slipknot loose,
And tell ourselves we’re whole.

This house is cold and full of ghosts,
My untold love which loved you most,
And nailed its grief upon the post,
That stands outside our door.
Those times are gone and pass me by,
The stirrings of your lullaby,
The haunting past of you and I,
Our footprints on the shore.

Though soon your ship will sail away,
I’ll wait for you another day,
And voice the things I wish to say,
When next your vessel docks.
Though still I wake with dying screams,
And nothing much has been redeemed,
And far away your love now seems,

I miss our little talks.

"