And then he sent her photos,

of sky and moon and stars.

That’s when she knew,

he aimed to catch her heart...

Nonexistent cares,

and a what not of tries.

Trust in love,

and all will fall into demise.

Lines in the rift,

of being behind her eyes.

She’s sorrow ladened again,

but no one hears her cries.

Inked to the page,

in his last words she sighed.

She’s just a storm collector,

with his thunder on her mind...

-HMG