And you talk about the love that floats in your heart for me,
how your eyes glimmer with a mere hint of my return
yet I wonder is it enough to not waver
through what life has gripped mankind with;
On the days when I’ll be soaking wet
on a dark street in the alleys of the darkest slums of this city,
I wonder,
a blanket, would it find its way from you?
On the nights when my eyes swell with pain,
hovering like they’ve been drugged with the finest of what makes man high,
would you be there to lend them a bit of coolness?
On the days when I walk with gazes of contempt set upon me,
every soul there to tear me,
I wonder,
will the warmth of your arms suffice,
will the hope fluttering through your eyes
let me know it all isn’t going to be okay
but that your spirit is there to rekindle mine
for a lifetime shall I fall amidst this beastly cruel world?
On the days when pieces of silver
are trickling in every pocket but mine’s,
I wonder,
will you be willing to share that warm loaf,
perhaps the last one?
Oh beloved,
let’s sit down,
take my hand for the scars on them need closure;
Fear not for I know that to ask your love
for such a heavy fine is blameworthy on my part
for love was always selfish,
it was always about the heart within that chest finding its solace
and not the solace of the beloved across,
it was always about dying in my arms
but tucked under cozy blankets in a cottage-house facing the lush valleys.
