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Pick us a place
where we could come true
and I will meet you there
to love you
it doesn’t really matter
if it’s on top of a strange
and winding staircase
or among the crumbled
ruins of somebody’s
failed cathedral
or at the bottom of a
deep and dangerous sea
where we could drown
if we’re not careful
as long as it’s somewhere
we can hold each other
I don’t really mind
there is a compass
at the core of me
and it’s pointing
the way to you
I light a dozen candles
to fall asleep in
at the shivering flames
they keep me company
as I burn inside
wanting to be next to you
and at the opposite end
of my endless faith
there is a heavy oak door
ajar on its creaky hinges
and behind it is written
in a mix of French and Spanish
and Braille and calligraphy
and the incomprehensible
sweet sounds
two people make
behind closed doors
the steps I should take
to bring me closer to you
but I can neither reach it
nor read it
not until you’ve told me
which place you’ve picked
for us to pitch our tents
and light a fire
to make it all come true