With Me

Still you are here,

In the farthest and deepest,

Corner and crevice,

Of this figurative heart,

Still your eyes look back at me,

When I look at my own,

Still I wish to know of your presence,

When cold tears fall from the sky,

Yet you’ve forgotten,

Even though you assured not to,

The maple in my voice,

The heat of our venomous encounters,

The arching rise and fall of our breaths,

Forgotten,

Hidden,

Washed with the white of your new wardrobe,

Which God himself called you to wear,

Well God should always be true,

Even in you,

In me,

In them,

But I am your devil,

And I live close to the shadow,

Which your eyes tend to ignore,

I am the night,

With which comes the silhouette dreams,

That cannot be destroyed,

With even prayers so deep,

I live in the blood which runs,

And trickles onto your created existence,

Which is my created existence,

Of a created existence,

That we both stagger towards,

Only grieving,

Only heaving,

Only leaving,

One another behind.