As time gnaws on my bones, and I stand hunched and bow-legged under the weight of my scars,

I look not to the heavens for respite from my oppression, but to your brown eyes.

When I falter, stumbling in the sludge of ignorance and self-pity,

It is your hand I reach for.

It took so long to find you; I’d already grown weary of living as a ghost

And had given up too much of myself to the solitude weighing upon me.

I’d merged with the walls I’d erected.

I’d become invisible.

You saw me, though. You dug through the earth and dragged me into the light of day.

With your sweet breath you animated these dead limbs and stirred this deaf heart with songs

Sung only for me and crafted from the fabric of a love 

Strong enough to wake the dead.