When my looks don’t match
My mind anymore
And I stop writing all the
Romantic porn,
Will you still get deep
In the gutters for me,
Have wonder for me…
Meet me on the floor?
Because as long as I’m making,
What I make is still yours.
When my hands start shaking
I can’t keep painting,
And my work starts getting even less relatable
Will you still look out…
Still be waiting for me?
When my head gets sick
And my words don’t stick,
Will you stay with me in the rabbit hole,
Follow me into the pit
Of creative exploration
We were so blessed to explore?
Even when this makes sense,
And I’m speaking in past-tense
Of these sacred times
Filled with color and rhyme
I’ve been blessed to enjoy,
As we let these dreams lead us
To the spiritual core…
I will still be yours.
feverdreamers.com 