The pressure pressing against the edges of his teeth,
The dry heat of jealousy pounding against his skull,
in the wake of such sensitive times,
he only wishes he would have gone cold before the wind blew his love in the direction of chance.
The hot needle burrowing through his brow,
searing apart flesh and bone
itching at his thoughts before cauterizing them away with hate he never thought he could feel towards the love he cherished.
The love he once felt so close to his heart he mistook it for his own.
The heart he found so bright and strong, he tried to light his way with the warmth he had found.
But the light only fell on the cold damp cave walls of his memory, reminding him that his path of warmth and comfort ends here and now,
before his journey could ever begin,
he would die here, alone.
In a dark cave, with the flickering light he held in his chest,
dimmer and dimmer.
the flickering finally, flicks  dark.
Cold, silent, black.
Splashing the darkness into every space it could fill.
Every space he thought he had filled with light.
Against his chest his fist pounded, trying so desperately to jump start the pump.
To kick the engine back into gear,
but the spark had left him cold and bare.
Naked in the lightless cavern of his thought,
reminding him that he has always been,
and always will be alone in the dark.