Today I woke up and imagined a life without
In a rush of blood, I let that chalice overflow
From the cusp of my fingertips, I imagined letting you go
The memory of holding you in my arms played backward, rolled

It is not by my leave, but it is what you’ve thought for us, so
Let your oracle divine what is to be
As you work your ways to self-fulfilling prophecies
And I, I have let the numbness seethe

Longing for the day, when I can no longer recall how your lips feel
Thus flow my desiderium, slow and painfully
Good for little else bar some poetry
Good for little else bar some obsessive fleet

For you cannot rob me of my love for you
That is beyond anything you can conjure and do
Yet, do so wonderfully of robbing me of my meaning and my drive
A puppet with strings slack and tired

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