But this house is so cold,
and the walls are starting to speak.
Cracks in the floor are staring at me.
Shouldering the world, I'm growing so weak.
Though..
There's mud in my veins
and salt on my tongue.
There's songs in my lungs
that have yet to be sung.
Weaker knees have carried worse.
Lesser minds bare the same curse.
But.
They haven't the privilege of watching you dance.
Their wide eyes blind, but mine still in a trance.
I haven't forgotten the amber and honey swirl.
You're still my favorite girl.