Can you let me hold your hand,
as I step over this threshold?
And will you promise to walk beside me
while I knit apart my skin from these scraps of thought?
When the only memory that this world has of me is stone,
will you wash the moss from my grave?
And if I return someday,
will you be there?
Will you still sing my song to the birds,
still water my sunflowers,
still sew my horizons to the night?
If I am blind and weak,
would you carry me through the pain,
would you carry me until I can breathe?
Once my bones have scattered in circles,
do I have your word that you’ll rescue my soul from the ashes?
Do I have your word that you’ll stand as the last pillar,
the last smile in the flames,
the last beat of time,
and hold me?
Image Link: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/69/c1/fc/69c1fcb5103ea5500476232ee995fbe9.jpg (21/01/21)