What Follows Will Swallow Whole Poem by Isaak DeMaio

We held hands at the cliff,
while we got high on the air-
of running water, and blood
circulated our veins,
from our restless hearts,
making our hands warm,
like the fall nights we spent
staring into the eyes of one another,
as we walked like shadows,
quietly, preciously, invisible,
to the picnic tables.
We both caressed our faces
with the back of our hands
grazing ever so gently an overcoming urge
of lust to to conquer each other's lips,
with a subtle kiss that meant everything,
but nothing.
This time there was no confusion,
no heartbreak, no miscommunication.
This time our hands were warm
until I let her fall from a gentle push
that overpowered her feelings of forgetting,
letting go, and love.
It didn't matter this time
how many times her heart skipped a beat,
it beats no more...
she speaks no more...
love is no more...
I realized the wounds that binded me,
strangled from emotions,  
I became comfortably numb from apathy,
possessed from the attached string like a puppet.
Cut loose from the strings knotted
in my back, a push to break free,
and she could not be saved from falling.
In the back of my jeans,
I pull a train ticket that leaves at dusk,
and I realized, only one could use the ticket.