What would I do if she ever died,
how would I carry on,
a misfit like myself, with no anchor.
I’d drift between the worlds,
a living specter unable to cope.
Somewhere between the living and dead,
there you will find me,
buried as deep as any corpse,
as hidden as the roots of a tree.
What would I do if she ever died?
My heart would cease to see loves brightness,
I would be hollow, a carved out Halloween pumpkin,
empty of all that makes up who I am.
Without her love to inspire my words,
without her touch to heal my wounds.
Love is the bond we share,
beyond the intimacy of the night.
A deep pool that never empties,
throughout a life that ebbs and flows.
We hold each other’s soul in the heart,
we breath deeply each other’s passion.
What would I do is she ever died?
That’s the leap of faith we take,
when we become one flesh,
to share in life’s pains and joys,
knowing that one day we will part,
to pay the toll to cross the river,
into eternities light, bound together.