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I am on the brink of dying |
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when you pull me in |
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and hold me. |
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There seems nothing more |
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than to let go |
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and breathe, |
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and breathe on in. |
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I lay face down into knee deep ?waters? |
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and you grab at my soul, |
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?if not to use me.? |
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Blankets cover my chilled skin. |
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I reach into my thoughts |
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and refrain |
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from grabbing what is ?lost,? |
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and weary of time, and time alone. |
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I lay face down into knee deep ?waters? |
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and you grab at my soul, |
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?if not to use me.? |
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(Something else... Possibly a different language?) |
