by Nick Gisburne
I swear it. I will never speak of this,
The madness of a moment, of a day.
A final, precious promise: I will miss
The gleams of gold you painted on the grey.
I never needed anyone but you.
Tomorrow I will never need you more.
Dismayed, I see the weight of what we do,
Surrendering the battle, and the war.
The pool of pain grows bigger than us both.
I watch its icy waters drag you down,
Reminded of a raw, reluctant oath
To stop it. Rather this than let you drown.
Serene, without the worthless words of speech,
I pull you from the pain, beyond its reach.
