in your arms, i feel as though
the sun will never set,
i am the blushed morning rise
that doesn't rise alone,
i feel you rising as well.
sometimes when i am alone
i question cloudless days
and wonder what if...
what if things were colored gray?
if my hands were only able to trace shadows
rather than the very edges of your soul,
would loneliness trigger me in deeper thoughts
than you or i could ever imagine?
i can't picture my hands empty
aging with time, holding nothing but a dream;
like wrinkled poems falling to the floor
as if never to be read by anyone.
my mind alone could trigger my soul,
pull my fingers back from reality,
press against more than facts
then stop my heart from beating
as i roll the barrel and draw
my last breath of poetry,
if things were colored gray