I feel so numb
so hollow,
by the shadows of death
that haunt each and every step
we take,
hand in hand,
our wrists tied together
knotted, by the bands we wear,
of scars and string,
gifted and shared.
Your friend, Death
follows us,
never more than one step behind.
Sometimes even slipping ahead
in front of us in line for a time
craving out our futures
to be severed,
to unravel,
fore written
by his deadly design,
in your handwriting.
I cannot vanquish death,
when you invite him in for drinks,
singing drunk songs
of the love you share for each other,
forever the one,
never another.
You and death,
hand-in-hand,
a two player
drinking band
a desperate finale,
a one night stand.
And when you wake,
death is gone,
forgetting again,
to take you along.
Only then you remember,
the thread that tied
our hands together
intertwined
through love and time
except
when death's hand
replaces mine.
But when you and death stumble again,
drunken, drugged, bleeding, laughing,
out of sight,
Despair moves in,
suddenly by my side,
cold calculation
to freeze over the night.
Reminiscent,
a pervious relationship of mine,
one I called off long ago
and again
and again.
Despair is persistent
obsessive
because
Despair, does not like to hear,
refuses to accept,
No.
So Death led you away,
by the blood hand,
that together you severed from me.
And in,
just a moment of time,
Despair picks me up,
bridal style,
and following the echo of your footfalls,
carries me
after.
