The day you went away,
I looked at the wisps in the forest to search for your secret grave but they just turned to me
and faded away.
I searched the sands for your parched remains and i knew when I'd find you
because life would spring from where you'd rot
and the oasis you'd bring would flood the desert floor
with our memories we spent a lifetime trying to endure.
So I built a ship for two,
to guide me through the storm
to the next beckoning light that calls- another rock to crash upon,
my foundation?
lies in pieces of micro-organic emotions and concrete
unhinged delusions.
The seat next to me is taken,
I know she's already...dead,
but still, I remember her presence and I'm not mistaken,
I'm waiting to pass over
so that when it's over,
we'll start again
and row through the waves- together.
Sure, it looks weird now: a young man who looks old,
and people say he looks dead but
thanks man,
I try,
I just can't drop down at the last
breath,
to rise up in depth,
so I feel I can never drown...sad.
The only drug is your gasp as you frown at the last glimpse of my face-
enraged? alien?
sadder still,
I don't remember,
Everything happened in a beat back then;
metronome swings of fervent passion.
Our nights were tunes of harmony and disarray,
we swung them together and stitched new holes
in places we liked by ourselves;
defunct from casual belief
and such times!
People strained to find insanity, androids in love looked for guidance upon us,  
who dreamed of mortal sleep.
Our dreams,
were nightmares we always woke up from a second earlier
before it ended.
Waking up was more real at times,
and at times,
I couldn't tell the difference
but I dreamt nonetheless
and so, we decayed beautifully;
so used to it anyway that we didn't stop for a moment,
to look at the skin beneath our bones.
Everything in angles and shapes and simple motion
bent to our rules of private physics and the laws
of Fatal Human Attraction.
I knew the science
and knew the value of distance and its measurements:
too close and it pushes back, explodes
and leaves
absolution,
the aftertaste.
So I tasted implosion- time and again,
just to keep
our crosshairs fixed.
If one of us moved closer,
our bullets wouldn't miss,
and now, I can't smell you
if I did, I'd touch you,
but I can't hold my breath yet,
my lungs still keep me
dead awake.
Till then,
I'll just hunt you,
keep dying,
and see.
Till then,
don't
come
back.
I'm ready, haunt me.