I hold your hand but mine has no sensation numb and heavy it belongs to someone else Horror stricken at how this feels I cannot touch you I cannot want you Any more The elements of rope that had bound our tails as we swam to hide from Typhon have been torn Forever like the flesh of my soul that had waited for you Only for you even while I did not speak secrets you should have known my whereabouts clandestine did you forget that what happens on the outside is merely fog of a disassociated self I only become real in the mirror of your eyes and smooth awakening of your caress You were the one to understand my world but today, after being apart for so long I am still numb even though you hold my hand and I pull it away as you cry and rage
Sometimes, when I look back on experiences in my life, I think, if I were to read about them happening to someone else, I would be incredulous, yet, when I sat in his car as he recoiled from me, it had become woefully, painfully, normal. (This is spoken through his eyes.)