If I tell you
Fingerprints on our bodies
Never really fade away
But you know
This desert is cold and lost
Writhing in your stranded mess
I measure our distance with lightning
Would you stumble with me to the end of this shore
If I tell you
This is my letter of despair
I tarnish in broad daylight
But you keep
Your beautiful things in a pot
Sometimes I hear my own swan song
Your absence of hope is not hope of absence