illusory

[childisgone]

I haven't written in a long time, so please forgive me for this. It's merely poetic waste, if anything at all.

::sigh::

~

To be composed of words
fragmented, like stars
which seem so close together
from afar and yet
they're not

I'm not.

There is infinite space
between me and
the rest of
me

Untouchable.

And yet, I feel compacted
into a form I was never
intended to occupy
but you do
occupy me

Always.

But my space is growing
thin - as thin as anything
of mine could be -
and the world is
collapsing

Inward.

With nothing beside me,
behind me, ahead of me
and this is existence
lost in the folds
of possibility

Wasted.

In this vast catacomb
of awareness without substance
there is still that persistent notion
- like a scratch that can't quite
bleed but stings enough -
that somehow, tomorrow
is going to be

Brighter.

That you're going to see me
like you did once
and that I'm going to smile,
drunk with the knowledge of
loving and being loved
on into

Eternity.