It was an object of futility to remain unloved,
The only emotion worthy of our otherwise meaningless existence,
Forced with a first kiss, intimacy then adoration,
Beauty lying in the speculation,
Taunting us with it's ugly judgement,
The promise of a world that was written as unmoving,
A moment established on deciept
It was unexisting and were fools.

The allure of which we were all captivated by,
Was not the moment we shared, the touch, the ecstasy,
But the weightless instant after,
The silence we were left with when everything fell,
When the naivety had thawed under the heat of passion,
And we were left only with ourselves,
Because after all, we would die,
And we would die and decay alone,
With only our desolate last moment to comprehend, to reason existence.

It took a long time to realise that the world hadn't stopped spinning to watch us. It wasn't enough to adore each other. We didn't want the privacy of our mistakes, of our rapture. We had nothing else now and that’s what we needed, never had the look shared between two people, elated the world as ours had.

It had started with supple, modest beauty, an attraction fit for poetic justice. Never before experienced tenderness; we suffocated from the heat. A simple touch had us meditating for days and now we considered ourselves soulless. Could be graced with death today and we would welcome it under the promise of eternity in each other’s embrace.  

Dangerous now, not love but infatuation with the fear of our greatest loss. Existing had become more painful, the simple task of breathing someone else’s air made us sick. The closer we held one another, the more of ourselves we put in, the more lost we became. Blinded with the torment we were not good enough. How does one survive the day their heart is ruined?


And now it was over. And the world had remained ignorant.