Feeling atlas blue the Atlantic pulse quickens; pulling me in currents I fight it with leaden arms to a face down death. Staring at the ocean you loved my soup of bones. Soon you leave. Leaving your poetry on scarred skies of empty lines; looking east on top of the World as I look west from hell, whispering to greek gods 'return her to me.' I will sleep now weep now keep somehow the memories, the smile from her eyes warmth of skin, till her triple seven sunrise Leaves me some of her within. I’ll never love again be loved again this way write another poem for I lived a sonnet this day.