Sometimes What Ends Doesn't

Our slowly passing days like so many dogeared pages

Stained with tea and tears from yesteryears,

Watermarked and worn with endless strain.

And I can imagine an ocean of water for miles hanging above my head.

And I can imagine the vultures gathering down at the foot of my bed.

I can imagine the sky a golden crimson red.

But I'd rather not imagine how this ends.

I find that my mind always stray

To the numerous potential ways that we could break

Beneath the weight of so many aching, lengthy days.

And I can imagine whole scrolls of words going unwritten or unsaid.

And I can imagine a patch of earth eventually replacing my bed.

I can imagine the sky a golden crimson red.

But I'd rather not imagine how this ends.

I find that most of the time I'm fine if I imagine you instead.