can we stand on our two feet
after everything we went through?

there are storms to weather,
faces to erase,
and scratches to heal,
but love, what have you done
to most of them?
why are they gone
—thrown to the fire,
to the tribulation you brought?

where do we stand now, love?
i don't believe we've been
at the shore for too long.
must we cast all we are aside
and leap into the endless depths
of life's crashing waves?

i ask you now,
but don't give me an answer
unless you're dying to know
how it feels like,
standing on your two feet
after an eternity
of getting crushed
under violent tides.

i'm prepared for a lifetime
of silence and darkness,
because it's you
—your silence is as precious
as the presence you keep
holding above my head.
it's enough to be at the shore,
waiting for your ship
to return to port,
bearing stories of old
and words of comfort
for the bereaved.

it's enough, how i wake up
looking for you
and finding you right
where we stand,
wanting to hear your voice
from miles and miles away,
waiting to face another day
with you and for you.

because you make me stand
on my own two feet
when i struggled to do so
for as long as i can remember.

but how long do we have
before the winds of life
and the mistakes of the past
shakes me off balance?
how many of your reckless promises
and the periods of silence
will i endure before i crumble?

was it worth it?
to stand on your two feet
until you tire and come home
without memory of
what i mean to you?

if that's the price
of standing on my two feet,
then i'll gladly thrown myself
into cascading floors
and lying doorways,
have you find me over and over
—because i can't stand
on my two feet
without your promises,
your kindness,
and the heart you
keep dangling overhead.

and if it's only silence and ruin
at the end of the road,
darling, that's okay
—if it's with you,
i will be fine on my own two feet.
everything will be fine
on my own two feet.