I borrowed a handful of blue sky from my last lover and now he's wading through the deluge that had him engulfed. I lent him a bottle of sunshine, but he says it isn't enough to clear the demons from his mind. The demons he said, have taken a piece of his night. So every night as he lays baring his soul, he feels a cold shiver inside. He longs for a patch of moonshine to feed his bereaved soul. He's willing to trade my bottle of sunshine for a curl of the rainbow, truth be told. I offered him a bucket of blue sea, a mirror to behold.