Cut

I stood motionless the breath scratching its way to surface seconds idled into minutes watching like a predator in its prey sight Her selective form withdrawing into darkness Will held me captive slowly drowning in the morose Etching her shape in forgotten shadow The war between need and loss accumulating in an arrow pierced tear This sweetest sorrow somehow stale and parting never to be twain ed The end of us Turn away the unheard voice utters from beneath but holding onto hope as it burns its faltered escape and reality aborted by her trace can be tracked rolling down my face