Lover or Death

Your heartbeats are footsteps, with each one you're making your way towards me. In rhythm, I can sense you closer with the passing of time. You are meant for me in a sense--meant for me in a way a breath needs lungs and lungs need breath. Even though I sit in solitude and have been to myself, that doesn't stop my passion and my need to be enraptured by your embrace. I still have it. Oh, I still have it. Lingering deep inside of me, a place in which only you can reach. Because I don't belong here and seldom do I feel some bit of familiarity. Familiarity of somewhere I know well. Bright green mountains and a river running through a meadow. It's all of mine. I get the notion that you know that place, too. Somewhere in the core of myself, farther than my organs and blood. I see you there with your feet in the flowing water, whispering the secrets in my ear. I hear your heartbeats. Your heartbeats are footsteps, with each one you're making your way towards me. In rhythm, I can sense you closer with the passing of time. Lover or death, you are meant for me in a sense-- in a way that none of the rest are.