In another life, I would name you lover,
On my soul, I would carve your name,
let my arms be unswaying walls,
my chest a resting place for your weary head.

In this life, we would be more than poems
written with an unsteady heart and shaking hands.
In this life, I would be the type of man
a woman like you could love.

Here we would not dance on the tip
of a knife daring it to cut, daring it
to shred away the ugly bits.
In this world, our hands would fit together perfectly.

Know, I write these words, not in hope
that you will understand the roaring of
this fire which burns inside of me,
but in hope, you will forgive me for letting you go.

I will not say we were young and foolish
we knew where we were shooting,
but who would have guessed these arrows would
have made a home in our hearts.

And who would have guessed we would
be squeamish at the sight of blood?
Maybe though in another life
we will find redemption for our sins.