(pass in waste)

My brain is the blur still telling us the dream's alive and will be until the day we finally lean into the river for that last kiss, the sweet caress that carries us back into the breast of darkness to wait our time to roar fires again.

But those days are years off. false threats from the edge of fate tempting us to be everything we hated. daring us to die small and insignificant in the arms of the last love we claimed as a matter of fact and not a testament to the passioniate airs that saved us from ending it all.

Too young and too fucking stupid.

Too terrified to stand tall.