Jim Milks

(2/7/1966 / Boston)

A Million years to Sunday


I hold you close and lay your head upon my chest
I kiss your soft and pale cheek and whisper
“shhh little Dove, rest”

The broken glass sparkles like diamonds in the early morning sun
Reflecting on so many things that have been left undone
I shall keep you warm against cold and bitter wind

I know that I have sinned
And for that, for us there are no tomorrows
As I shall dwell forever in this well of sorrows

I can hear your heartbeat so soft so slow
“Oh God baby please don’t go”

I gently brush the red tears from your cold soft eyes
The sun shining on this tattered scene
One so sad and yet, somehow so serene

If I could pluck my heart from my chest
And place it in your dying breast I would
For just one moment, before you leave me for someplace above

Just so I could say on my dying lips
One last time
“I love you”

Submitted: Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Edited: Sunday, April 20, 2008

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