Winter comes; fresh upon this dying ground--
stampeding through these rolling plains
the mountains blue and purple.
Hues that darken through the night.
The only light that guides me through this twisted
winter storm
the layer of cold white that reflects the cloudy sky
that blurs my vision of this slaughterhouse
this empty battlefield.
Oh I clutch your beauty
photograph
frozen at the edges. This fire burns bright
(the reflection of home in your eyes)
I continue to search for (OH GOD, I'm coming home)...
The day I held your whispers on the curves of my ear
the violent tremblings you clung to; begged me to return and now
this snow stained red reminds me of your heart
pounding against your ribs and and I wonder does it
recognise the loneliness
the fear
that I feel here.
I wonder if it begged to chase
to hold me back -- you left me on that porch.
I'm so alone.
A single snowflake falters and it melts on the image of your cheek--
a waterdrop slides to your chin to my hand.
My god, I'm so alone.
This rifle, polished and stained
propped on my shoulder
We walk on. We walk on.
Author notes
Coldplay's Violet Hill. By far my favourite Coldplay song. =) Thank you.
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