You bathed in my energy,
cleansing you broken heart,
swimming in the river of life,
done but not apart.
So pretty in pink,
and fully covered,
you reached out far,
to the wicked stars.
Fearless on stormy seas,
stormy on quiet nights,
we raced head to head,
aimlessly.
Paris in the spring,
no one would win,
the game of life,
no wishes, all demands.
In the lap of the gods,
we get what we deserve,
in the lap of the gods,
only the silent call is heard.
