My idle heart
Will not start
Without something of external
Love, to close this part.
The distance between your eyes and my own
Has left me with fingers upon the heartstrings,
As no sounds will ever play.
I used to make music with you,
Once made me drowned in your exotic emotion,
While I glued together pieces of me
In a broken boat
That drifted for miles without another hand
To row the other oar.
Will you once more be my maiden,
Upon this voyage?
We now bleed the river before us,
And sing Heaven from our throats,
Because I do hope,
And can only hope
That Hell has left its flame behind us.