split

when that mate of soul
arrives at that most terrible
of places to be...

Not Death,
Not Absentia,
Not even Suicide...

but rather, that plane whereupon the soul,
once lauded and admired, envied even,
has ceased to exist... vanished to the extent,
where not even breadcrumbs light the way...

Then doest Death of all Feeling
finds us laughing at our neatly suppressed tears...

and doest we, thankfully, controlling Virgo,
that we are, through all the selfless giving,
still remained, logic and planning still retained,
doest we look to the future... still there... alone...

And so we cut, our souls bleeding,
the ties that bind, that bound us unconditionally...

but reflective as we are wont to be,
we can't help but consider it all:
the near-twenty years of being one of two,
which were one only, to the world, to the darkness...

And we rant and we scream,
at the futility, of the inevitability of it all...

for two can never be completely one,
and one can never truly encompass the two,
sooner or later - for your sake friend reader, i hope sooner,
the one becomes to dominate, initially innocently, insignificantly...

But in the end,
the loss of self rebels, as we realize, finally, it musts...