On our quilted island I cling to you
As the waves of change lap at our toes
Before inevitability sweeps you away,
Our soft skin no longer touching;
An ill-fitting jigsaw with a missing piece.

We’re broken. Our bodies leak
Warm liquid from passion and
Lack of self-control.
And your hurting hurts me
So I comfort my murderer,
Cradling an angel in my arms
Who will soon transcend
Our transitory existence.

Your smile kills me,
As the lead in my chest slowly
Poisons my soul. It’s no apparition,
But a slow-burner, a malignant
Tumour, biding its time while
You wrench me to pieces.

The clock ticks by. No man
Should wait for time.
I count your breaths
And press myself ever closer
To your retreating figure
And beautiful imbalanced
Mind.

The ocean eyes close
And angel curls fade
Until I sit alone, a trembling
Country mouse lusting after
A cat who for a time put away
His claws and played with his
Dinner before devouring it
Whole.