Alienation of affection

What takes us higher?
High above the world with soundless intentions.
Watching it all from space.
Feeling the pin pricks from a detached state.
What robbed you away?
Spirited into the shadows like a train into a tunnel.
Hearing the echoing of loss follow like a can around my ankle.
A bell around your soul.
Ringing the chorus of a dawn so open and alone.
A rising sun, tinged with the blood of the night.
My compass spin on indecision, magnetised and hypothesised,
Concluding this circumstance beyond such control.
Our strands unwind, and without you I move at random.
Paralysed into a time that the world built up around me.
Gravity gives in, and we lose our grip.
Shutting down the stars and drifting into a sweet disappearance in space.
The loneliest way to die.

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On the other side

I love you.
If you remember nothing else from this time, please take this with you.
I need you, something I think you’ve already forgotten.
Not like a bed to sleep in, my turned soil and coffin are suffice.
It goes deeper than that. On a cellular level.
The blood coursing through me, gravitating to you.
I’m starting to forget what you look like, your image is dissolving into the hue of memories that in time evolve.
I’m forgetting the pain, I’m dispensing the sorrow. This death is bringing about your redemption and better features.
I still want you.
These words are whispered silently into the night. As the moon shimmers longfully outside, I pray into the silver space.
How dependant should I be, is this something I can help?
You cultivate this separation, you support the absence like a presidential election.
You have your supporters, funnelling money and motives your way.
I love you.
The repetition is forced psychology, hoping to ingrain in your temporal and transient mind.
Happy New Year, merry Christmas.
A part of me feels so distant, I fear I might miss this.
The other side of tomorrow, when I’m making love to your ghosts and talking to the corpse of us.
Ten years from now, beyond the heartache. Where my heart is linked to the IOS and artificially pumped, barely alive and memory erased, deleted.
I love you.
So repetitive. Beginning to rob the words of those most majestic meanings.
Goodbye. I’m sorry.
So reparative.