I’ll build you a dam,
then I’ll take you by sea so
we can escape the taunting
memories of shadowy streets
and nuclear physics arguments
over our lack of chemistry.

But now the water no longer
brushes my feet I can't help
feel that;

I hope I meet my demise soon
enough that Capaldi can play
at my funeral telling me
'don’t fade away' and I
want to see you cry,
mirroring you as the tears
fail to cling to your eyes.

For if this is purgatory
then let the maggots eat
me alive.