I roll my thoughts like Sisyphus, punished for my hubris, yet not absurd enough to find meaning in it. I said I would wait for you forever, though I did not expect to have to mean it.
I no longer trust the clocks. I found the calendar to be a liar. Shattered schedules have seduced us into a false sense of normalcy in separation.
How could I die for you when I cannot even live with you? If you gave up on us now, I could not chase you even if I wanted to.
Satellites both save us and stave us. New technologies only work when they are given permission. I can hear you, but I cannot see you move until I see you move.
You could not have possibly kept your promises when the Devils disclosed our details. I am not doing the best I can at coping but it was useless when I was.
I fell and faltered when I felt the familiar fear of failure. Another false start to show who is in control. I have left for less; if I were you, I would have by now.
The despair was manageable for one, but is too excessive for two. How much tape is left on the dispenser, with its dulled teeth that scratch and scar instead of sever?
The scissors, too, lost their sharpness. When hope was new, they would glide through anything. Now, they pull and tear the paper jagged.
I wrapped myself up for you again and again, like it was the first Christmas I expected you would attend. The label has your name on it, written by me with love, in cursive for all to see. That way at least one of us looks belonged-of public.
I am broken inside underneath the bright design, though you are excited to open me up anyway. I hope I am still what you want when the ornaments come down and the garlands are all put away.
We neared the summit again, and like each time before, our future rolled back downhill. I will start my push again, hoping against hope that these are mere setback, not our sealed fate.
-R.P.D. Sanders