Put your life in my hands
Every cracked blister and every white knuckle grasping at the straws of your hair
Is my best ever good enough
To bring you back from the brink?
Who can tell me where the right stop is, I am a train speeding off the tracks so
When is giving up an option?
I can't decide for the both of us - but your heart beats sluggish , a trail of slime in my cupped hands,
This is my choice, not yours,
You are blue lipped bulging eyes and I am awake finally but I wish we were reversed,
The world spinning inward, you and I drifting across the table,
Wine stained lips and empty plates,
And I can sleep again maybe,
Dream that I am someone else without dead weight on their shoulders,
I can't carry anything else with
Your life in my hands
And I am weaker now than I've ever been, Atlas long since withered away,
But put your life in my hands anyway;
No one will cradle it the way I do.