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