Anchored to a place where I found myself tightly wrapped in you.
A voice whispering its lingering tone in the heart as it hopes.
How many times must I listen to you love the blistering plagues of her infection before you remember me?
I fanned moving from this place to guard this heart from the burns of your degrees of pattern.
I procreated these feelings over and over, birthing the notion that if I remain glued in place though I pain your eyes will find me crying in your heart.
Bleeding from wounds in oblivion behind the curtain that separates our pairing.
Caring for you, but killing me slowly!
Unknowingly you miss my hand for another momentary lapse in judgment.
When you finally remember you want me the pain of being the last choice will have frozen the tears on my cheeks and my heart it will be…
Shards of broken crystal at my feet.
Will you then be the missing pieces of me?
Or am I hopeless waiting for nothingness eternally?