My heart feels heavy and full of blood, pulsing waves of euphoria and grief to the tips of my fingers, wilted petals.
Our trajectory has split. I live in golden days and silver nights and I no longer crave the taste of your cyanide lips. I am accompanied by my pretendings, imaginations and dreams- all more lasting and defined than the folding shadows you carry.
My flesh finds you familiar and my teeth remember your name- but the fire is tired, and I have no care to chase after embers and sparks that have been soaked in your spirit.
My stomach no longer growls when yours does, and we dream separately again. Even when our elbows and fingers are pinned and sewn together, and your blushing head is buried in my bosom, I feel tides of allure for more drawing me far, far away.
I follow signs of serpents from angels, callings of curtains of willow and moths, silhouettes of castles visible through prisms of mist.
I still want you to long for me, and maybe thats cruel. I want you to see the opalic sun spots in my eyes, the jewelled insects on my hands and hear the echo of my boots when I walk away. I want you to feel my unquiet rage, but also my undying love, as infinite and iridescent as the beckoning ocean.