no matter our age, we always find death
in the arms of lovers, dreamers, friends.
no matter our promise, our bright shining star,
no matter who we could be, or who we are.
no matter our progress, cold hands reach out,
cupping our warmth, final breath, final shout.
no matter the distance, the carriage always finds
each of us on out fateful night.
for some, it's just time, for some, just cause,
for some, it's counted down to the final pause,
for some, it's foretold with much ado,
for some, it's just them following you.
for me, it's been there for more than six years,
time mostly spent holding back fears.
for me, I'm not counting back days,
time lately spent counting the ways.
in my dreams, I'll be rejoining her,
but I believe there's nothing, no heaven o'er earth;
in my waking, I know I fell in love first,
and losing her, I learned of my curse.