I fear you will disintegrate
before I get to touch you;
that by some cruel whim
of the eldritch gods,
you will turn to mist
and vanish
as I draw
near.
My soul,
and all that’s in me,
recoils as if against a flame,
at the memories,
and the hidden wounds,
of all the years
we’ve lost.
Every word I speak to you
I taste,
I measure,
I peel apart
ever so carefully,
then I piece them back together
before I set them,
hesitantly,
at your feet.
Which words will draw you
near?
which words will push you
just
out of reach?
And what occult combinations
of syllables joined,
like links in Fenrir’s chain,
will banish you
unwittingly
from me
forever?
The thought weighs too much,
I can’t hold it steady.
To lose you again,
so soon,
or ever,
would mean to be swallowed,
engulfed
in thick black India ink;
covered into
nothingness.
As the darkness eats the light,
all color,
all breath,
all being,
all that once was this thing called “me”
would be consumed,
blacked-out of existence
like a classified name,
leaving only the black stain
that devoured me.
Without you there is only
annihilation.
1/20/2017
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