passion is no more than a bygone sentiment,
our ardor long extinguished itself,
and I've only vague impressions
of being as a fiercely lit conflagration within your arms.
I sift constantly through the ashes of that emotion,
in desperate search of an ember that might spark
and reignite the flame,
only to come away with nothing, fingers gray.
no, instead I have become as a black hole,
once the epitome of supernal magnificence
turned nova, then super,
o cataclysm, o crux,
o nervous breakdown, and insanity won,
becomes the epitome of nothingness,
an inky void which begins to draw
from everything that surrounds it.
laughter, the elixir of ages,
drained.
memories, of what sweet, small splendor there was,
lost.
tears, the outcome of heartache,
siphoned dry.
nothing is spared the inexorable pull,
the irresistible dark force, not even the light.
our ardor long extinguished itself,
and I've only vague impressions
of being as a fiercely lit conflagration within your arms.
I sift constantly through the ashes of that emotion,
in desperate search of an ember that might spark
and reignite the flame,
only to come away with nothing, fingers gray.
no, instead I have become as a black hole,
once the epitome of supernal magnificence
turned nova, then super,
o cataclysm, o crux,
o nervous breakdown, and insanity won,
becomes the epitome of nothingness,
an inky void which begins to draw
from everything that surrounds it.
laughter, the elixir of ages,
drained.
memories, of what sweet, small splendor there was,
lost.
tears, the outcome of heartache,
siphoned dry.
nothing is spared the inexorable pull,
the irresistible dark force, not even the light.
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