An incessant cycle of joy and sorrow binds us.

One that neither of us can be liberated from. 

For once, you were the joy to my sorrow

but now you are the sorrow to my joy. 

This vicious cycle is all that is known to my soul.

After all, I bear it alone while you remain whole.

My heart lacks the courage to feel rage

for it bleeds a stream

of truth when it sees you;

One with an origin in the past,

One drenched red in agony,

One drowning all evocation.

Still,

in instances of your success, I tend to lose all sense

in instances of your sorrow, my heart turns hollow.

All that remains within is my endeavor to somehow–

whether it’s by crossing the seven seas

or leaping across all dimensions

this universe ever encompassed–

reach you.

However, it is predetermined 

on the pages of destiny 

that my endeavor be futile. 

For it is my ultimate misfortune

that you remain lost 

in excavating your desires.

For You and I

We aren’t humans.

We are vehos of collinearity.

Two parts to a whole 

destined to walk

alongside each other 

on this trajectory of life

Cursed, nonetheless, to never meet. 

Despite the atrocities, destiny 

orchestrates to render my 

heart a frail entity, it fails.

For I refuse to cede you,

set you adrift into its pages.

For I not only walk this trajectory

plagued with trials by fire but

live harboring ultimate faith

 that there is a relationship

between us; on some strata 

of existence if not on this

doomed one, mortals call reality.

One that is ceaseless. 

For it surpasses that which we cannot: 

Confines of mortality and passage of time.

One existing simultaneously on

a plane of possibility,

a plane of memory,

a plane of belief,

One binding us for eternity.

This ultimate faith must be what enables 

my heart: fractured, punctured, broken, bruised 

as it is to beat for you, for us forever.