You are an algorithm of associations.
Mahogany skies, cherry pie.
Flashing white, sucker-punch.
The end of my tethers,
The end of your tethers.
Sharpness caressing the light of day,
Crashing into conjugations of lightning, thunder and
The gentle, persistent hum of empty space.
We grappled with the edge of night,
Stepwise sauntering into the moonlight,
Melodious, velvety, but also foreboding
What glitters is not always gold.
One day you won’t remember how it felt like.
You will struggle to place your memories
But you will find that they are muffled, hazy and fragmented.
You will not recall the vividness that once placed your sanity upon hinges;
You may not remember them, even though you have spent a relative eternity
Tossing and turning, plagued, refusing to let your mind or body sleep.
The body knows when it is time to let go.
When it tells you it is time to go, it will not be explicit in its meaning.