There is a pulse I hear
in the distance,
it beats with my stuttering heart.
I listen for you,
thinking surely you are close.
The room smells of dampened sleep
and fairy dreams
and secrets so deep
they wind into chromosomes
of thought and creation.
Did you pass these dreams on to me
when you left?
Am I playing some part in your
life's last breath?
I will stay for hope of you,
I will breathe for love
of the thought of you alone.
I will not break
even when doing so
would bring us together again
and ease the only true heartache
I own.
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