May I make mini-altars on my dashboard?
Sacrificial prayers, a Shoki for you.
Me, dying on the steps of your temple
holding only your hand,
May I unspin the web, so the demons flee with me?
No need for show, right?
I take what I brought
like a sick Santa using gifts as a guise.
I stuff them back into my sack.
My love a muse.
I let go so often,
a way of holding on.
If I could guarantee you would not die, too
I would kill myself at your feet
just to run my fingers along your lifeline.