we laid on the grass, my body tucked safely in your arms,
a barely solid figure, but I guess it was enough for you to love.
kissing a tear away from my eyes, you turned me to the stars,
and you said, "choose one, darling," then you also gave your heart.

we laid under the itchy sheets in the bed of our new home,
a silver band around my finger, at last securing my place.
you kissed me on the lips again, I smile, it's just you and I alone.
we thread our fingers together, and forget that we have grown.

now you lay inside your coffin, and I am not allowed to hold you.
 they said the driver's one too many bottles dug a grave into the snow.
I wish I could make time turn back, at least stop it for a day or two,
but I remember you told me, "if monday never comes, you'll never grow."