Ode to my first love

asking
are we breathing for true now
for better or worse

from life unto death 

in a not quite glamorous hostel
ill rock you to sleep
eager for papa grim to take us
without warning
as long as i dont see him coming

i never like to think on the decisions
that cant be unmade
and as the smoke rises to meet the fan
we can loose meaning
and be satisfied

should we dread the morning?

i dread every unhappy breath you take

spun into bed together
i wont wake without you.