I remember when we met.
I can still feel you.
What remains of you.
Nothing left but the subtle smell of death in your hair, the last taste of life on your lips.
Your flesh but a memory, a lie I still believe in.
Our souls bonded by my earthly form, you beg me to share your demise.
I hide in the shadows of your identity, corrupting my ability to cope with minor normalcy.
My pain cannot make you real.
My loyalty to your apparition is only habit, broken by reality.
The truth? I can’t let you go… Without losing myself.
At times I plan my escape from this world of living ignorance, which is true death.
My hands clasp the lies I use to go on but, the truth leaks through.
Worn thin by this burden.
I carry the weight of your existence, neglecting my own.
A pathetic attempt at remembrance, mere words in gravestone Six feet above your would be resting place.
Now beside me you walk, rest disturbed.
My madness consumed by guilt, energized by selfishness.
You don’t belong here, yet I allow you to stay.
I keep you close as a reminder of my innocence, that has burned away.
A warning of my damaged and fragile state.
For now I live… Death can wait.
©R. Marrs 2014