A new poem, anew

Come, let us 'time pass'.
Or, think of better ways to pass time
Than sitting at the silent shores, listening to stormy waves 
While trying to hold on to sand in our fists.

Come, let us make our doors into windows.
Come, keep both our dreams:
One below your pillow,
The other in my left eye.

This October rain and magic
That drips from my inked lips
You always thought mere poetry.

No, this is my revolution:
When the sun bleeds into the sea,
The moon blooms under your cloudy skin.
A razor-edged crown fits my heads.

We know we'll never give up;
It's difficult to wait
But worse to regret
Not waiting.

You flower,
I'll be the leaves that wither.
Together till the end, 
You'll either end up on me or an idol.

Our poetry may end
For our
Poem to be born.