When my cartilage wears
Will you hold me in place?
When my voice scratches
Will you call for me?
When my sight dulls
Will you stoke light into them?
When my fine lines become outlines of the girl I once was
When my strands turn from charcoal to ash to smoke
When the tides have collected their fill
When the sun has beaten our last layer
Will you tell me we'll be okay
That this world will still spin after us?
That I will cling to life with you
Despite the terror of terra losing her fuel?
What a fool I am
Choosing to grow old in a dying cage
For as long as I can lie my head on your shoulder
Fingers twisting in our laps
I will push that boulder over the hill
Thoughtless, not mindless.
