Or perhaps, even still, in dream state or not
Her eyes pierce your soul
Her touch burns too hot.
To die is to live, describe some cultures at best
The heart and the soul can find eternal rest
From the images that haunt you all through your days
Images of love, as her lips fade away.
All is for naught in this sleepwalk we fathom
Wandering through the days as your mind still imagines
For all that is said and done for your heart
Perhaps a dream is what got us here to start...
No comments:
Post a Comment