You are dead
From my perspective in both heart and mind.
I watched your heart slowly stop beating
Content to put you out of my control
For better or for worse.

Once dead I gazed at your memory’s embodiment,
Mourning that I could not wake you.
I suppose that’s for Princess Charming to do.
After all, like a woman, I gave you the poison apple.
But like a champion of grace, I clothed you with a flower garland
And carried you into the church,
All the while, repenting for my lost gamble.

We are now blocked and separated.
There is no more “we”, simply you and I,
Distinct non-overlapping entities.
It’s always been that way, even when we collided:
My oil and your water

Your body burns.
It blisters my soul when I touch your hand.
So out of the church we go and onto the sepulchral altar
Where I watch the fire consume your frozen heart
While the heat presses on my stone one

The flames last months.
When they are doused with reality, I scrape your ashes
Into an ordinary box and stuff it away into the back of my mind
Only to be tripped over by accident
If I am searching for something I never found.

The brimstone leaves scars on my yellow dress
And taking offense by defense I march away, telling all of your death
With you like Lazarus skipping the other direction.
It seems you are alive in a different sphere of another world
With a glass pane in between us
Me staring backwards, and your refusal to turn

So which one of us is alive?
It’s hard to tell, you’re like a wraith
Pestering and haunting
Fragments of me which lie gasping for air
And stitching themselves into a make shift rag doll.

Your 180 blesses you with body
Someone who puts fire back into your heart.
I shrug, casting out to sea
Distancing myself, and tossing your ashes into the waves
Only retaining the urn, the hollow shell of a memory.
You were right to say the best became the worst
But I say the worst shall soon become the better.