All places shall be hell if my hands cannot reach you, like grasping onto sunlight on a midsummer morning breeze.
All places shall be hell if my voice cannot sing to you, like hymns of love on an ocean’s floor.
All places shall be hell if my ears cannot hear you, like the ghosts of songs you no longer know the words to.
Let my eye sight fade to black if I no longer see you first thing in the morning, like sunlight peering over your blinds just to see you.
Let me fade to ash and dust without your fire to hold me upright.
I will swim if you tell me to, and if you jump I’ll jump with you.
The roses you have never brought me will wilt away where they were grown in. Whatever elevation they were in, their beauty goes unnoticed to everyone but me.
I’ll dream of you, and right before I wake we’ll kiss like the time we were together and never got the time to sleep.
“All places shall be hell that is not heaven.”