Waves

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Her eyes are fickle torches, her body made with soft precision.
They drown what might be left of me when stars address this sorrow.
We function with our broken minds. The price tag still attached, she sleeps.
Extended, thoughts regain momentum. They bury me in heavy ashes.
But what exactly left a taste that bleeds like coffee from my lips?
I wonder, floating in the dark, her breath inaudible to ears.
Yet love was built emotionally, attachment is a vicious cycle.
It captures us, it makes us numb. It is the only dream that lasts.