There is no surrender

There is no surrender

To the smoking gun

Life has become

Your fingerprints

Are all over it

Neither one of us wore gloves

There is no bad weather

Just bad clothing

Walk with me

Through the blizzard

There is no reliable way

To see which way

The road leads

When visibility is restricted

To the hand in front of my face

It would be easy

To lose direction

A sense of proportion

Disappeared

With you

My fingers are numbed

From clinging on

To the edge

Of the familiar

Would that I could

Let go

But the fear

Of leaving

Is outweighed

By the fear

Of something

Worse than mere oblivion

Agnostic uncertainty

Holds me together

Although the seams

Are set to burst

The essence of life

Whatever its impurity

Ready for dispersal

The blood

A finite spread

Every drop

Will be a trail

Too indistinct to follow

Into the dark

We may never meet

If it were not so

Perhaps I would surrender

To the call

Smoking gun

Or no...