across the room I can still feel the heat,

the heat of a heart independent of my own,

yet still in the same beat.

for you if left alone the small little flames would die out, 

but not I,

for me these flames would only stir and brew

into a ragging inferno, of regret 

ever further losing myself

wading and yawning in the wake of my own destruction,

for my world is crumbling, circling the endless drain.

filling my fragile heart with the stench,

of my rotting past, being held back by my own blindness,

to the forces hindering me

behind the folds of my eyes lies them,

those in which come to be by the fragmentation of my own mind.

cast to eternal darkness as I was.

but in the darkest depths and the blinding light

i find one truth to remain, a small bright spot acast a sea of darkness 

neither blinding or harmful, a spot of joyful laughter and near silent whispers, this bright beacon of hope known only to us as love.