A lovers hand holds tight.

how fragile is a heart that with passions fire beats hard and fierce. 

stoked with longing this flesh is bound to another, another heart, a wholeness, a privilege. 

that one beyond all logic denied and distance kept, a hearts desire to keep, 

that connection so deep, to be lost would be to despair.

Every ebbing smile and downcast gaze, a piece of flesh is stripped and dies, 

the weakened strength strains and bulges, ripping sinew pulls forward and smiles, tearful eyes, smiling through. 

with fight and grit it draws that power, ferocity unleashed, to love is to not stop, not tire. 

Through pain and answers none, a lovers hand holds tight, standing at the edge of the abyss. 

That great emptiness stretching forever into darkness, its lifeless nothingness. terrifying. 

strength now damned and hands pushed away, their love unheeded, unwanted. 

broken flesh and a lovers open hand reaching, sad eyes questioning, crying

watching in horror as into the chasm that great love falls, eyes shut. not seeing. not hearing. 

a lovers hand shudders and is still, the fiery embers of that fragile heart turn to ash, 

lost to the void and unknown, crying out for its second, its friend.

silence in the night, no answer from the depths, turning around, 

that dark bedfellow, that creature despair now beside me smiling in the shadows.