Envy flowers are rooted
in misery and decay. Hope dying away
A grave, not yet filled
but dug out of the clay and grime.
But I crave anyway.
I crave that feeling
of your words holding mine,
Our thoughts slowly entwining
across the canvas of the sky,
making love to the blushing
fizzy pop opera of life.
And I sing along for
I Know that at any point
my heart could stop
And the light could collapse
As the story just teeters over
the dug out hole we left unfilled.
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