It is like standing on the bank of a river
With tears in my eyes, sickness in my belly,
Painful lump in my constricted throat,
Knowing that our passion has sometime left,
Has thrown itself into the rushing water
To be tumbled and swept away and out to sea.
What is left is a veiny, shallow, replica
That is only two dimensions of what was three.

I feel your hand in mine, but realise the truth:
All you are doing is holding me back from slipping
Into the welcoming, life bleaching, frothy churn.

As I feel your hand slip itself from within mine.
The water flows fast and furious along its rushing away
Mimicking the flow of our passion into empty space -
A place where such love is sucked like a black hole
A prison from which it is impossible for anything to escape,
Leaving the corpse of love a frail and withered foil.
I feel again a painful tightness in my throat
And the heavy sickness grows inside my stomach.
I would not want to live a life without you.
I could not live a life without you.

So it must end.

© Griffonner 2024