The roar of griffins over translucent mountains

Shakes the air and quells the tearful contemplation

A study in parting, from a bird’s eye view

Is only a figurine and then another figurine

And the objectively measured space between them

The tears’ infinitesimal volume makes their burning

Unbearably on our skin, negligible as a contribution

To the air’s temperature.

 

Amidst the fanatical efficiency of leaving

The consecrating touch of the skin on your fingertips

On my fingertips, remains as unforgettable as a frame of reference

A reminder that they shall connect again, soon, again soon.

And the soul crunching agony of emptiness

As always best expressed in naïve lyrics of a pop song,

As always wrenching the mind, flogging tears.

But it will soon be over, won’t it? Won’t it?

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