I'm   so   scared
                      of
            losing
     you.
Please
     Please
          Please
Don't   slip   away
                 Please
           Please
     Please
I   need   you*
  to
      stay.

When your eyes are too tired to speak
And lips too tired to search
For the words you've been needing to say,

If your heart keeps stuttering
And eyes keep glistening
With no energy to seize the day,

Will your feet keep moving
Or mind keep working
To find the right way?

Stop worrying, child
You are a creation of God;
Just open your heart and pray.

The rain is falling glass
Shattering from the angels' eyes
They hit the ground in shards they splash
And if you look close enough you'll find a reflection of lies

The unwashable wounds of problems past
Awaken the demons that gush your logic out of mind
Half-remembering telling yourself that last time was the last
But everyone dances with the devil when they've been left behind

Something sharp, subtle pain, screams at the edge of the glass shards
And the angels cry their silent pleas that your deafened ears refuse to hear
A blinding reflection of white light (maybe white lies) stun your mind's composure guards
While the devil comes out to play in the glass rain, turning spatters into basalt ashes of burnt-out fears.

Curtain dust is like magic falling onto the stage
And the rickety crickety creaking of the aged floor
Holds all the birthrights to the moments constantly being born.

The sea of floating souls do not desire anything more
But to submerge themselves in the waves of the anthems
And underwater they try to bottle the fallen curtain magic.

Wavelengths of harmonies flow through space
Beckoning for a flow, a feeling, a connection between each other
Moments agilely fleet away, but here time is endless.

I should've built a bridge before I tried crossing your mind
because I'm falling fast with no safety net to catch me.

Your body looks stable, but inside your head
I find you are completely reckless.
Crossing any path you've built in there
is like walking through a mine field.

But I'm looking for heat;
Some sort of explosion or spark
to light up your mind with the thought of me.

And I've come to think that stepping on a bomb
wouldn't be too bad because then I'd scatter
all across your brain and you'd envision me
anywhere your mind wandered.

I'm practically as bad as a nocturnal bug
too consumed in the temptation of the flames
to heed the danger that comes with such a fatal attraction.

Mine fields may be for the mad but I think bridges are for the meek.  
And so I madly walk on wondering when I'll find the right misstep
that will ignite the fire to blow your mind.