Will we meet again through the blood-rimmed eyes of ghosts
Or in some stranger’s stomach
Or will we lay side by side, paralyzed
By the biting burn of freezing metal
On our respective slabs
Where bursts of breath no longer cloud the chilled air between us?
Will you be the nails that puncture me
And will I be your cross as well?
Or will I be the rock that you push uphill
Until I mischievously slip from your exhausted fingers
And roll to the safety of the valley bellow
Cradled like a hug between looming hills?
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 6:43 AM UTC
Will we meet again through the blood-rimmed eyes of ghosts
Or in some stranger’s stomach
Or will we lay side by side, paralyzed
By the biting burn of freezing metal
On our respective slabs
Where bursts of breath no longer cloud the chilled air between us?
Will you be the nails that puncture me
And will I be your cross as well?
Or will I be the rock that you push uphill
Until I mischievously slip from your exhausted fingers
And roll to the safety of the valley bellow
Cradled like a hug between looming hills?