((We're hanging here by our nails and our toes

while the lights flash red and the feeling goes.

We're hanging here in the space between breaths

with both our lives and both our deaths.))

We're waiting here with the silence around us

that stretches between the fast and the slow.

We're waiting here in the cold of November

wanting the other person to go.

We're standing here counting breath by breath;

the time that drags slower than anything more.

We're standing here wanting nothing as badly

as to speak from our hearts at the core.

We're talking here in riddles so quietly

that silence is turning quite green.

We're talking here not saying really that much

and certainly more than it'd seem.

We're lingering here because oh, we both know

that when lingering stops so will we--

and it's better to linger with two in a crowd

than to walk--quite alone--in this sea.

We're hanging here by our small pinky fingers

wrapped tightly like Hanukkah bows.

We're hanging here by our pride and our longing

as the lights and the inky night close.

((We're hanging here by our nails and our toes

while the lights flash red and feeling goes.

We're hanging here in the space between breaths

with both our lives and both our deaths.))