in the midst of what was once my life,
reduced to nothing but the
bare necessities of
clothing and weed and anti-psychotics,
and felt a bead of sweat drip
down my neck as I tuned
and looked at you,
restlessly half-sleeping in the
already humid early hours of the morning,
and I knew I loved you while
knowing I never really could.
I touched your skin and felt
what it feels like to be
two halves of one whole,
overwhelmed by the future and
my lack of one as I
desperately tried to cling to our
dwindling moments as tightly
as you clung to me.
I wish reality could have waited.
I miss our little paradise.