The black tide of Nothing swells
deep and cold, inside.

Us

This tenuous filament we grasp and flail for,
this meager connection,
it is a smokey spiderweb,
an eyelash falling.

Gone

I am not the same person I was
when I began this sentence;
you have never existed
anywhere but in my blood.

Mine

The nothing of us,
this chasm, abysmal
and familiar.

My dearest, my darkest.

*My only