can you feel the flame dying? this star of ours, the celestial hearth we orbit, she dims.
premonitions of heat death — you inch farther and farther away. our gravity is not enough. this dance comes to an end— you are drawn in by another, a gravity far greater than mine.
goodbye old friend, goodbye.
i pray this star is warm enough for me alone, but my oceans already turn to ice. my glacial heart slows its beating— heat death, heat death, heat death— again, the premonition.
prescient vision, it sees not the future, but the now too clearly. my love is its own cipher: the very thing which bitters our parting makes shouts of whispers, cymbals of subtlety. they broke my heart long before you spoke the words.
and what is heartbreak but this: to hold someone near to your heart still who has long departed? the heart speaks not in terms of physical distance— to it, you are still close. it reaches out, expecting your embrace— it recoils at the thin air. it reaches again, cannot fathom your absence.
where are you, my love?
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 