Two astral bodies floating through space.
Poetry penned across a page.
I may never be able to match your light, I might make you fade.
Two chapters in a book shut tight.
As it sits on a dusty bookshelf.
We are rotting away.
Mortal beings. Slaves of time.
In my mind,
You are celestial.
Angelic you hold too much inside.
While I am withering away,
The nothingness, emptiness, the void.
Taking over my body.
Blood vessels, skin and bone.
One by one till’ I’m gone.-H
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