Before you left,
I tied white rope on your ring finger and you created one on mine.
And ordered sweetly:
“ If I tug
You answer by tugging too.
And if you tug harder than usual,
Then you can pull me to you.
Sweetheart I’ll come home soon,
Wait for me by your end of our rope”
After a final night where our bodies sealed the vow,
You left swiftly and with every step,
I sensed our rope grow and grow.
I felt two tugs on Wednesday from you,
And I replied with three.
I felt four on Thursday,
I replied with six and a invisible kiss.
And then seven on Friday,
Doubling your seven because I’m missing you terribly.
Something strange is going on with our rope,
Its no longer resting on the floor,
But is almost floating towards the ceiling,
It’s direction leading upwards.
I called the general my love,
After feeling no pull.
He examined the ropes upwards slant,
Told me that he has seen this before.
Told me that I shouldn’t pull the rope,
Because there is more than you being pulled?
And that....it wouldn’t be white anymore.
That you are gone?
He told me of one solution to find you,
To which I commented to use both our strengths?
To which he shook his head.
And then motioned for my finger instead.
He laid it upon the counter,
Grabbed a Swiss knife from his pocket,
And chopped just above the tie of our rope.
Using my butchered finger he then
shoved it deep within my chest,
Penetrating my beating clock,
Causing our rope to dangle from my left breast.
And with my last and final breath,
The rope became one with my fading heart.
“Now all you have to do is follow your heart...and you will find your love”
And so our rope tugged one last time,
Along with my last heart beat,
And there on Saturday when my soul left my skin,
I felt a non stop tugging reply from the sky,
And a invisible kiss saying
“Sweetheart it’s your turn to come home to me”
Strange but sweet all the same