the idea that you
will be the last one for me
shakes me.

it is not necessarily
a bad shaking. more like the shiver
they say you feel

when someone walks over your grave.
that’s not a bad thing. it just
is. it’s part of a supernatural

underground life i lead — while
the daily things are happening
as they always do,

the existence
i never understood
is ending.

i wonder sometimes if you know
that you’ve led me to feel
my own mortality in a glance from you,

your dear face a memento mori
reminding me not to waste time.
there is loveliness in knowing

i am doomed. I know from looking at you
that love is as much a resignation
as it is a struggle.

i’m walking toward you now,
over the ground that promises to swallow us.
no matter; forever is a dark and fertile place.