Breezes blow from salty waters - inhale a gale of freshness lifts your dampened roots and through your yurei hair like a tablecloth is flicked to set. Dark pools of honor glance my way and stay upon my haunted gaze. Your pampered skin caresses longings Deep behind such desupere-to 'versions That you would give yourself to me in passion's strained duress and lean against my loneliness. Just to taste your calming soul so rooted in ripe blackened soil. I chance a look at moistened lips - so fractioned in time that I must shutter it into inner catalogs upon catalogs of you. In my mind and when alone, you are the only one who knows - who shows such interest in me that only by my timely death upon a finely sharpened tanto could my heart be quenched - Now thirsty, nay, contented with the moisture from your whispering lips Enviously touched by salty mists.