The tides swell with excitement
as the moon rises to its throne,
as the stars take a dip in the ebony sky.
Behind the brashness of the wind,
behind the poise of the waves,
is a dribble of melancholy life
that savored the same,
that whimpered the same.
“Where does the sun go when it sets?
We all know sunsets can only last for so long.”
These questions beat on,
like martyrs in search of the wounded.
Never stopping until they taste
the bittersweetness of the truth.
It is here,
at the bottom of this glass.
It is here
that you’ll find the raw,
Here is the place
where broken hearts go.
Here is where the sun
goes to die.