Mountain of stone and earth, regret and promises
Fossilised promises
River of water and dust, loss and promises
Drowned promises
Crowd of strangers and flickering faces, possibility and those promises
Thrive, unmistakably alive in every murmur, every eye.
It’s all unimportant, because your face is absent from that crowd.
It is a funny thing to die, because your voice never carried over that mountain.
That river has never touched your skin, never heard your name from your own lips.
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This world doesn't know you, not really. Only the pockets of it you touched
With your words, or your presence, or your hands.
I'd give anything just to hold your hand. To look you in the eye and remind you
That this world is only beautiful with you beside me.
Without you, that mountain is rock and dead promises.
That river is water and dead promises.
That crowd is human, evil, and somewhat magical,
A grand towering castle of love
Built on the corpses of all those dead promises.
Founded on that final broken one -
That final promise I could not fulfil -
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It was late at night when I promised to save you.
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You didn't wake from your dream that next morning.
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Maybe I didn't either. Maybe I've slipped into a nightmare
an soul-corroding one, and soon I'll wake to you sleeping beside me,
Alive like you'd never died.
And I won't feel this twisting pain ensnaring my heart,
Won't hear your sobbing, pained voice in my head -
'You promised.'
'You promised to save me.'
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I'd kill that mountain and that river and that crowd and the whole world while I'm at it
Just to hold your hand once more.
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