I can still taste you,
though the taste has grown bitter
as the days have passed.

Your voice still hangs here,
in the stillness of the night,
but just by a thread.

All of your letters,
the edges torn and frayed, turn
to ash in my hands.

And as the pieces
hit the floor, I realize
that you are dying.

Your breath does not cease,
but your presence slowly fades
with each passing day.

Your lungs are alive,
but your heart, that I used to
hear beat, pumps no more.

I can taste the dreams,
that you had once cast across
our silken bed sheets.

From them I have built a crude,
but fitting shelter.

They surround me in the night
and keep me steady.

There is no warmth like that of
all your broken hopes.

Your dreams have shifted surely,
and untimely become mine.

There are instances when
it seems virtually impossible
for the time to just pass by.
I want it to move, the clock hand
to sweep faster and faster until
the next time I can see you,
I can touch you, I can feel you.

I have been reaching out
to the most desolate places,
searching for a catalyst,
for something to fill this
ever-growing void that has
been carved into my chest.
But no matter where I go,
time seems to pass so slowly.

She was born in the spring,
and spring she became.

Full of life and color,
never will you see light
like that shining
in her amber eyes.

She possesses this light,
and with it comes
storms and dangers
that only add to her beauty.

Though I cannot reach
her light, nor her storms,
I feel them, always,
residing within me.

She is more than part
of me, Spring, she is
my core, my center.
Though I am not hers.

Tonight I will sleep,
I will sleep for Spring.
I will drift and dream her,
for all else pales in comparison.

I close my eyes, and succumb
to the numbness of induced sleep.
They welcome me with open arms
and in these arms I will weep.

I am growing fond of this feeling,
in the strangest way, it calms me down.
Anything to keep my wandering mind
from wandering around.

I am but a vessel now.
I will die with a clean head
while your lips are forever stained.

Watch us grow...
Watch us grow...
Watch us grow...
Watch us fall apart.

I watched, oblivious,
as his organs turned to ash,
and his bones turned to dust.

And I can't help but think,
as he withers away,
that I am meant to rot too.