where I pray

Where do our roads meet?

Let us converge along the way.

Where fireflies dance,

beneath a canopy of leafs,

I would hold your hand.

(But I was running to fast.)

The moon calls upon the Amaranth.

I will answer your call,

and know eternity.

Or, at least in my forgotten dreams.

From trying to find my way through the cold,

and pure, white snow,

my hands are dry and bleeding.

Your hands are warm and waiting.

How could I have not noticed?

It was made obvious in the light of the moon,

where I pray.

Naked I lay,

broken and waiting to be noticed,

At least I am honest.

I saw nothing in your cold blue gaze.

Just the same as lying.

Just the same as dying.

Running, I couldn't stop.

And I had no idea

that your hands were reaching for mine.