dear A,

you are the fissure between two eternities:
an intermission between plays,
a deliberate comma between protracted phrases that had
long since lost their meaning.

in your arms time wilts, shrivels and dies.

and in this stretch of timelessness,
we are expanding bodies of nebulae,
fed and sustained on the delusional idea of each other.

but this will never be enough.
and we will always be incorporeal.
and we will never be complete.

Happy Birthday, Armand

you are an event horizon,
a perfect black body
of gravitational monstrosity.
and i would never
be able to escape you.

you are a stellar black hole,
into which i
                     fell
               and
                          f
                            ell
and i'm
             fa
                 l
                     l
                  i
              n
                     g still.

i am alice spiralling into
a twisted dream
from which i'll never
wake.

you are the arcane, impenetrable fissure
in the spacetime continuum.
trapped in you,
i was ripped into shreds but
upon reaching
spacetime singularity
i have transcended
universes.

I would say that this is the longest we've been apart? 3 months is a record I've never thought I would survive. But then, I wouldn't say I was completely alive in the past 3 months.

Do I still love you? Irrefutably and implicitly, yes. I love you; but only because I will never stop loving you. You've been too deep in me for too long that I don't suppose I'll ever truly let you go. I guess you can say that you're too big a part of me that cutting you off completely would be like severing a limb, or an organ. But have I given up all of hope of reconciliation? No - despite the almost over-whelming urge of the pessimist in me, we have too much history for me to believe that it will all vanish in moments.

Because up till now I have no idea what went wrong. Of course, I was the one who became a zombie, I was the one who pushed you away, but I've never understood the trigger. For once in all these years I couldn't find solace and peace from you. My inability to feel has eclipsed all the love you lavished on me; it exhausted you and I couldn't even work up the energy to care.

I've been better lately - pulled back to the world of the living and feeling. I miss you - your dark eyes and your nose; your soft lips.

I Don't Know Anymore

I wish you had given me a warning that you're leaving. You know I can never deal with silent partings and sudden disappearances for weeks on end. Or maybe you did, and I was too preoccupied to hear you.

Because that's all I am these days. Preoccupied. Emptiness spreads like a plague through my mind and I feel a hint of terror at this apparent lack of emotion. I've begun dreading staying home and being in my room because that is when I'm at my dead-est. I need to go out, somewhere, anywhere. I'm forever forcing myself to replay scenes or conversations in my mind because I can't bear this blank canvas of a mind I've been having. I can feel the dullness seeping into every crevasse of my body as if I have zombie poison in my veins.

But I do miss you. And I miss me.

The Love We Buried

It was in the darkness

That we -

Groping and fumbling clumsily - 

Buried the love 

We had made.

If I forgot the warmth of your

Fingers splayed across my back,

I amended by tasting the phantom honey

Of your lips

In drift between sleep. 

But the rain is full of

Ghosts tonight. I dreamt that

You kissed me hard and rough.
What I had forgotten then
I remember now.

My soul was on my lips

And you licked it all away.