the pottery is unspinning the sweater's unknitting the candle is melting and the tea's gone missing pondering the theft in awe at this mess and what's left: clay, fabric, wax, and leaves i guess it's god's way to say be grateful for your things when the world goes backwards it's the leaving that stings
"i wish i'd loved you better.. and that you see me clearly without disguise.."
as for love slipping away: "we cannot continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality. . ."
"to truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them. . ."
everything that i love is me the same way everything you love is you
you became a part of me..
and to feel you..watch you..hear you slipping from my fingers.. feels like a vital piece of me is being suddenly and violently ripped out from within . . .