we're still not like them.
we are not like we.
we're unlike creation. me — blank. all pre-big bang with no wind. no solar. no adam's ale. no opus boom. not a single flicker. i am blank. a space composed of dearth.
you — end. i mean end. end of armageddon end. end of destruction end. end of catastrophe end. end of annihilation end. end of obliteration end.
this what happens when we combine. there are stars that are scattered or leaking. there are moons that have dried up like the river we built from our blood. there are planets that cannot hold on and they let go — only to be devoured by someone worse than the grim reaper. me, blank.
we danced and we died. we glanced with our eyes and broke apart with our tongues. we didn't unite correctly. we should've bought a new dryer. we began and the law says that a beginning cannot go on. so, we ended.
you ended first and i followed along. your presence will be grown up in a few months and i'll still be all honey girl rose. if i should use current language, i say: this sucks. division is not what i desired and neither did you, but we would find ourselves divided. maybe it would happen seconds minutes days years decades centuries millenniums eons immensities from now. but it would occur.
at least it was swift. at least i learned how to kick my feet and shake my arms and move my hips. at least i learned how to splice with the end.
at least i learned.
