My will went with you

It's the black tethering in your pupil,
that dilation in what was supple,
christened adults, gleaming stupor,
how you never move a muscle.

It convinced your every motive
left you hanging, breathing, gloating
from the corn-field secret brewing,
and the words that I’m misquoting.

It let you breathe
and seethe
underneath.
when you saw past shoulder width, also achieve
that iridescent baking-bleak.

It let and stopped you when you speak.
     
It readied friction, and forced a gravity,
a never ending fucking moral cavity,
gave you Sampson strength to mingle,
and left me in full perverse depravity.

And now,
I think I should thank God,
for all the additional peaceful nights sleep
but when I thank him
I can’t help forgetting
to take your leaving pill
and learn to speak.