Standing here with you
we watch the past fade
like the ocean
on the stern of a ship.
The ripples we created
long smoothed over
to glassy stillness,
and whether blood.
sweat, or tears
bob in its wake,
they have all been sipped
or burned away.
What carrion of enmity
remains
has long been picked clean.
What remains of affection
sways in the darkness,
lifeless in the cold current.
And together
we slip apart
into the
infinite aftermath
of
used to be,
and
might have been.
Beyond Panic 