Death is waiting for me
downstairs in the car,

But I'm running late as always,
Old habits,
They die hard.

Over the mountains you may find
The wind blowing clouds over the sky
Lovely flowers blooming
Under the mountains looming
The wind will sigh
Making the trees wave
The reeds will cry
Their joyful tune
The daffodils will dance
In the bright light of noon
And the willows will shake
With every breath the wind takes

My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.

I’ll see you in the future.

I’m going to say, “I miss you.”

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.