Will you lay with me when the world goes sour.
Will you lay with me when I have nothing left to give, as my petals fall revealing the end of my blooming season.
Will you lay with me when the only thing left to touch are my thorns.
Will you lay with me when winter comes and I am shaken with the beginning of my end.
Will you lay with me when the sun refuses to show his face.
Will you lay with me in the wintering when I’m shadowed by my own haze, wilted in grief at my release.
Will you lay with me as the waves beckon my body from where you have sunken in the sand.
Will you still love me in my dying days.
