422/1998
when my eyes close and the water stops running
anticipation starts never let down
but hopes not always as high as the room
where he lies waiting for a floating angel
to sit on the edge of the bed
want nothing more than to paint a picture
where she sits done dressing for the day
time now for the opposite
seen the chill as she entered the room he feels it too
don’t mind his tears they are the good kind
how did she even know
back to his bearded face touching silk
the silver is tarnished and faded away
the snow has melted and he is what is left
right before eyes he breaks down
and she slept through it all
he wanted to wake you
something wouldn’t let him
disturb the peace
only then he realized that
it was his too
she brought him there…
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