Moonlight
crawling out of
the sea,

we are
no longer
inseperable.

One
now two
torn,

forlorn
yet half my heart
yearns for you.

The other part rebels.

There is
no unfeeling
your touch,

no way
to unhear
your voice.

You are an echo,
unforgettable,
part of me.

Your parting gift
was an exit wound,
a way back in

through the time machine,
reflected moments,
good memories.

In a way
I guess you'll always be
a stubborn itch beneath my skin.

A whisper lost to ear
that travels often to heart
persuading me to love you,

or keep fighting like hell to let you go.

Decision's tree,
to be falling branches
or growing roots;

thrive or decay.

To hold on
or to let go of you,
both seem impossible

to choose and to do.