Haunt
Your heart on mine, beating in time.
I guess this is what they call true love.
Though lovers be lost, our love shall not, we are nothing.
Tonight we'll pledge the end for I am eternal death.
Every moment with you is a breath,
I can no longer exhale.
Wait out the evening in search of you, you bleed me dry.
For a chance of closure and compassion as lonely and dead as the evening sun.
Just another person in search for purpose and salvation.
Remember me, as the cold air that hits your lungs.
I guess this is what they call true love.
Copyright © Christopher Heinrich | Year Posted 2014
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