By your breathless side I left my hope;

as the thick curtain closed and engulfed us,

our future frayed like a worn hemp rope.

In dark deathlessness I’m alone to grope

for a frail ribbon, my own dreams surplus

as by your breathless side I leave my hope.

Black is precise, but my clothing is taupe;

life’s fabric faded to washed out hues,

my future fraying like a worn hemp rope.

Reality with sanity elopes

and the meaning of truth is now veiled as

by your breathless side I leave my hope.

Destiny proclaims me as one who copes.

Crude stitches sew a patchwork life in place

but my future frays like a worn hemp rope.

Distance disappears through a telescope

and soon I won’t even see your face since

by your breathless side I left my hope,

my future fraying like a worn hemp rope.