The black tide of Nothing swells
deep and cold, inside.
Us
This tenuous filament we grasp and flail for,
this meager connection,
it is a smokey spiderweb,
an eyelash falling.
Gone
I am not the same person I was
when I began this sentence;
you have never existed
anywhere but in my blood.
Mine
The nothing of us,
this chasm, abysmal
and familiar.
My dearest, my darkest.
*My only