dead hands.

the hand that extinguishes the flames...
is quick to die...
because there are too many things around here...
that need burning...

i'm calling this my exit wound...

what i wouldn't give to be part of the asphalt on the road that leads you home...

to be a part of your journey...
the one that i've missed out on...

a while back i feared that when you'd leave, my flame, too, would be extinguished...

but i feel the fire burning anew...
something magical will rise from these ashes...

because i've realized...that all along...it's you i've been hiding behind...

she still holds your hand and closes her eyes and wants to walk through the fields of wheat with you...

but you never got to know her...

and now you're gone, too.