Eyes swollen by a **** for change. A hunger; a desire To force myself back through the gapless barrier Preclusively demarcating reminiscence from reality. Why can’t my anamnesis be my actuality? Even if it is verisimilitudinous, Lie to Me!
You’ll tell me words are hollow. “If you really miss me, show me.” You’ll say, “I have two kids now. Doesn’t that bother you?”
I’ll admit, “I know. It’s okay.”
You’ll be entirely made up of mechanical gears and electrical circuits, with light emanating through the cracks in your skin. I shouldn’t mind. It will be me who makes you this way, after all.
As we push further into the future, you’ll be less impressed with every hour that goes by. That’s how she was. So that’s how you’ll be. Maybe I’ll be sad to see it, but I’ll be happy knowing that even if my perfectly imperfect creation decides to leave, like she did, you won’t get so far before you’re completely drained.
And only I will hold the key to restart your heart.
Just as she has held the key to mine, all this time.