Would.

Silken thread weaves through my fingers
Brushes their tips,
Draws over my palm.
I breathe small ripples into the water,

Fascinated.

Rapt.

I sit stone-still and watch the crimson wine bloom up
Breathing it's own life out slowly
Soft and warm.
Soft.
Like the rare shade of sunlight you can only see through flower petals.
It glitters, and then is gone.

I'm left here with a stinging sense of loneliness,
My only comfort stolen
Beautiful in it's betrayal.
If I could open my chest
Spill my soul out on the ground
And dance my bare feet in its greying faith,
In God's laughter,
Splashing dreams and gravity everywhere...

I would.

Oh, how I would.