Terminal

There is a suitcase in your hand, And a film of tears blinding your eyes, The salt lingers on your lips, my lips Like a final gift, a reminder of your presence, I savour the taste, and sink into the heat Our fingertips linger on cheeks and bare shoulders, I'm weak and seasick, our hearts reside in our stomachs, Deep indigo marks in the crook of your neck, The sweet collarbone, your warm scent Skin slides past skin as we distance ourselves, A distance expanding with each passing second, We step back to gaze, eye to eye, My soul is screaming, can't you hear it? You blink, and I want to catch that tear, To return it home and break its fall, It collides with a tiled floor, I swear I hear it shatter... The terminal terminates us, Why else call it that?