How can I separate myself from you?
Tear you softly off my skin, everywhere your touch has been.
Where can I slip each kiss you stole and transform these lips, which once were petals into thorns?
Tell me if you can, how one fades in plain sight the memories that dwell inside?
...
Pound, pound at this stone cold shield, which rattled with each stroke.
Tears form and all is lost as our words spill into the oceans it behods.
Emotions strain the fibers of tangled thoughts and fades into cries.
...
Separate Me
How can I separate myself from you?
Tear you softly off my skin, everywhere your touch has been.
Where can I slip each kiss you stole and transform these lips, which once were petals into thorns?
Tell me if you can, how one fades in plain sight the memories that dwell inside?
How can I separate the fibers of your heart, which are woven within mine?
A heart that beats to every teardrop lost, screaming for connection with each pounding thrust.
Where does the pain get stored when separation hits the core?
How can I separate myself from you, without killing what was found, a love so pure so true which fears separation too.
What will become of these fingers, which traced every form that held your frame, every corner of your face, every side of what you gave.
How can one breathe knowing to exhale, lets go of each inhale you whispered in my soul. Scrape your scent from me, which once smoothed the linings of this armor and like a banshee cries as you leave.
What will become of me, when all of what was us, forms pebbles on a beach, swept away into the sea, longing secretly to be set free?
How can I separate myself from me?