Losing Words

I watch the blood swirl down the drain,
Knowing it is lost for good,
Like a rose through the latice twined,
and plucked before you should.

They swore to me you were forever,
So I called your name to the dark,
Infinate space of the black holes,
That still retained sweet Zion's mark.

Oh the words will never come again,
So embittered, now I write.
However, there still burns the hope,
That once more, my words find flight.