But all is not black.

GOODNIGHT, SWEET LADIES

I like the sound of your name—
a lilting, polished archway overlooking the sea,
perched poignantly on the edifice, looking
down upon Rocks meant to dash escapists and
the insufferably melancholy.

And despite your beauty, you are so.
A palace to the observant, interlocking stones
with solidity that I've always lacked—but
your darkwooden interior and ebony deathbed
slowly weigh upon your foundation
and, eventually,
down the cliff you raced to the oneness of the sea.
And replicas of that building, your beautiful name,
are abounding here, but none could match
the white of your kempt stone or the aching, endless blacks of your darkness. No,
none will match you.

At the bottom of the sea, in Atlantis as you must be…
Do your insides lay untouched? or am I now your fugue?
You must know seeing it shattered my heart:
you destroying You.