Dirge

A Series of Letters.

Part 1: Dirge

I feel your weight in the air that fills my lungs. Your presence, a thunderous tale in the wind, its echoes beating on my eardrums, drowning out the sound of my own voice.

Creeping into my consciousness, I find myself twisted in your threads of desolation as the line between your existence and mine blurs.

You seep into my subliminality, swallowing my world.

A rope around my neck, I no longer know if I am tugging you in or if you're tautening me towards the end.

A raging agony storms within me when your vision flickers before me, only to evaporate like a ghostly ghoul.

You slip through my fingers like water, your waves washing over, drowning me, and then you take back what I can no longer see.

I am haunted by loss as I lose myself in wondering: Do I dream you into my reality, or am I entrapped in your dreams?

Each step you take shakes my waking world, and the closer you are, the further the sky seems.

As gravity bends to your will, I drift into the vast unknown.

Praying for the fall as you bury me deep between the bones of your ribcage—the air that flows within you, absent from my chest.

I looked for you in the cavities of my mind, but no, you are much closer now. You are a tear in my soul, a fragment afloat in another world, leaving me with a burning ache that takes hold of my light and threatens to consume me whole.

Cloaked in your darkness, you scatter me like sand to your ocean floor,

I rest there while you surge any hope in the skies bearing me.