A work of mine, i'll leave judgement up to you.
|Dancing in the far land,|
following my hands as they cherish your face.
I feel the impulse to drown in your pace,
yet your stare rips me from your grace.
I search desperately, yearning for excitement and acceptance,
darling, your gaze pierces and melts my brain.
I no longer feel my fingers, the flow in my palms stops,
as I touch your hand, snow-bitten lilies rot this forsaken land.
Your withered expression reminds me of a lone dying wolf's glare.
It recalls all our worldly times in lies,
now hidden within the planks of my tomb,
I truly am a corpse.
Looking down at the lifeless iris in your hands,
I feel my eyes freeze in thought.
I couldn't trust my heart to guide my eyes,
and now my brain couldn't guide my legs,
which stepped on your anticipation, belief, and sunny days.
I only feel my consciousness shifting,
when you become reality, tears leak, and you tumble down.
I am a fool, your hope is what tumbled down,
both of us are the ones to sink together now.
Dancing in the far land,
remember my cold hands, my foolish letters filled with what you once saw in my rotten eyes.
Remember this cold, ice itself for others,
but for you, just a slightly warmer apology for rainy days.
Vividly, the glacial mist sings locomotive noises,
snowy doors open and steam welcomes me inside,
I leave you with a bud-like kiss and a smile.
Expectedly, my winter story ends,
I have never grown accustomed to fate's puppet games,
for even destiny despises fate.
Unexpectedly, your summer jolly continues,
mine was the toss of that penny into the fountain,
mine was the toss of myself into the far land.
Such is my worth, two pennies wet from tears.