One day my breath will catch
in my throat, forever
and my blood will run cold
and although I will feel
everything
slipping through my fingers
I will be paralysed, powerless,
left to watch it unfold
until there is nothing left of me.
One day the ground will swallow me up
I'll be nothing but dust
no trace of my existence
except unsent letters
addressed to you
that I'll have forgotten to burn.
One day, I will cease to exist,
spontaneously perish,
the universe will shift and I will be gone
inexplicably.
Nobody will remember who I was
because anybody who is anybody
is you.
One day, somebody will look into your eyes
and you won't want them to look away.
That will be the end of me.
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 8:52 PM UTC
One day my breath will catch
in my throat, forever
and my blood will run cold
and although I will feel
everything
slipping through my fingers
I will be paralysed, powerless,
left to watch it unfold
until there is nothing left of me.
One day the ground will swallow me up
I'll be nothing but dust
no trace of my existence
except unsent letters
addressed to you
that I'll have forgotten to burn.
One day, I will cease to exist,
spontaneously perish,
the universe will shift and I will be gone
inexplicably.
Nobody will remember who I was
because anybody who is anybody
is you.
One day, somebody will look into your eyes
and you won't want them to look away.
That will be the end of me.
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