Expectations.
So strong and so mislead.
Your sarcophagus screaming your name.
Your statuesque figure peering down at the shadow.
There isn't much to open eyes for.
When the paint dries,
Will it still be the same as the virgin skies.
Dont .ask. me.
Try to remember how the mold fits,
As if your memory will be fixed.
Hands so strong and firm,
Calloused and Scarred.
Broken angel,
with broken wings.
You've fallen so far from grace.
With you on my shoulders,
I break my back to get you high.
When your back at the top,
Don't .ask. me
Why its so cold.
Copyright 2005 Shay Holland
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