if in time we find that the words we said still ring true,
where will your hand be? in the entwine of some other?

when do we give up the ghost to the sea
when do we just let it vanish into the horizon
and drain down over the edge of the world?

what could we have been? do you ever wonder?
there’s no solace in questions. there’s no closure
in the words we won’t ever say again.

and i sleep on this floor alone. head on the cold stone
buried in my hands. where would i be now
if i had just given a little more of a try?

and new sunrises don’t seem to shine
quite as bright anymore. there’s no reason
for me to stay awake when all i see is shade.

she could be something amazing. she could be
all i’d ever need. if she’d just come back from the brink.
if she’d just breathe here with me. just to be.

it’s not the problem of not knowing what i want
it’s the problem of knowing what i want.

and the problem of waiting, on the widow’s ledge,
over the wild ocean. a promontory over the evening tide
and where i will hold my vigil.

i can’t do this forever.