to my light
my lover
a flower that has bloomed
nothing could ever be
as lovely as you
I'm afraid to say
what I'm going to do
you want me to hold on
to what
a crumbling edge?
I wanna flip the page
better yet re-write it
let all of this burn away
but I know
it can't be that way
so instead I will keep on marching
till my soles are red
and I can write these poems
with what they have bled
and say what really needs to be said
"I'm not as strong as you think I am"
but I promise

I'm going to stick to this edge
until theres nothing left to do
but fall right into your arms once more

my lovely blooming flower