all that is left of you is tethered to a tremor.

your absence widens, and keeps on widening until we are finally separate.

the gulf between us is a star-fed river.

the gulf between us is a light-starved chasm.

I watch you convulse, collapse into yourself.

you, a soft nebulous shadow that grows warm and bright, incandescent, from a seed.

so quiet. so very quiet.

you spin away in the vacuum of space. pulse light. scintillate morse code answers.

i hear the silence.

i hear everything you want to say.

every time the other crossed our mind, I wonder,

what that would look like?

Would it be a nice and even ebb and flow?

Or would your thoughts come only in a slow trickle, egging on the raging currents of mine?

Would my thoughts be a tidal wave of all the little things and all the big things and all the good and the worry and the affection?

Would I be

reading about my eyes and my lips and my touch and my embrace, as often as you'd be reading about yours?

How well would our oceans of thought, mix, I wonder?

Would you only text when you chanced to see me?

Or like me, would it be with, or without you, near?

Would the currents combine to carve out land, anew?

Or would I drown you out?

we will meet

and then

I will reveal

all my colors

to you.

I will be

your canvas,

yours alone.

so, if possible,

and until then,

try not to boast,

for I am priceless.

And now …

It is the secret in his wine And the river's poem Misses how the air felt Before the unannounced end 

With a picture of you,

My most precious possession,