Distance is not merely the death of love, but the match that lights the flame; before it dies out again.

People think that pouring gold onto our skin,

and dressing in Gods’ gown and Jewlery

will spring angels upon our plate,

and we can feast like it's our last meal.

but our skin is rather useless,

it hides our heart and soul,

drowns it in confusion and

stabs its arms and legs to a cross,

lingering in the single moment,

never to move with the essence of time,

Frozen.



Our hearts are who we are truly,

not the skin we wear,

or the snapshots of their whole existence  

we have imagined

to capture the essence of their character.



People are more than a moment,

they are a transcendental soul,

trapped in the weak boundaries of human nature.

Summers warm grip smiles,

Morphs in winters icy stare,

My love for you wanes.

The crooks and crannies of my soul

stung at the sharp moon crescent

carving me.

And I lay cradling my soul



Our eyes merely lingered,

shot through the hourglass of time.

Your transparent whiteness should not

Afford such string in my spine.



My conscience lies in debt

With understanding of

You.

Yet my soul lives in enriched by

Your ivory skull

  

I know that my presence  

is merely a glance that doesn't hold a shadow,

but you grasp my thoughts and strangle them

Until there’s no space left



My mind is convicted of your fever,

a disease that lingers in my arteries.

You did not merely skirt my periphery,

you dragged a blade, cursing me,

eruptions of tantalizingly immoral pain,

a pendulum of knives

left to hang in silence,

swinging from one end to the other,

Then your emptiness shadows me.

Close to the edge.



You left me.

I should never have met you.