The world has no meaning I’ve accepted that.
And you were never really here.
You have become
the slow fire in my veins,
the shadow that kisses the walls of my room,
the scent of sleep curling on my pillow.
And I die a little death but that isn’t pain
I imagine your hand
fingers not touching me,
Yet somehow I still feel its warmth.
I realise you are the most meaningful thing
in a world that doesn’t care for meaning.
And that’s the tragedy
or maybe, the grace.
I want you to know,
I will never stop finding you in everything
And I name you in the dark,
when the night feels too quiet to bear
when I reach for you without thinking,
and my chest hurts like you’re still supposed to be here with me and only me.
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