gently in these ragged folds
curled up and warm like easter's child
a breath so faint, angelic weight
i can't deny
that i drift sometimes
even in these loving moments
to summery fields i call my own
where i can lie and in them feel
at one with my death
with limbs outstretched
i can't deny
that i'm weak sometimes
even in my strongest moments
and the way you cry at me
i don't know why
you stay
-red house painters
moments
- May 12, 2003
- burningtonight
- No Comments
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