36/1000

I promised you a thousand sonnets, love. I’m sorry I didn’t get them done sooner. I’m not going to be able to keep that promise after all.

A large part of me will never really stop thinking about you. You’re in the seams, between the lines, even in the poems that weren’t about you.

But it’s time for both of us to move on. This thing of ours has never been healthy. I’m starting a new chapter.

A little less “you”. A little less “Ephidel”.

These are for me now.

The Curtain Rises. I Must be in My Place.

I think that’s about enough of that.

sb yafxb jtbzxvd vd vvvrb akocc

It’s time to pull myself together. There are people who still need me to be strong.

dpv pnsv khr zcclvxo rt zi abia wg wlrcp iohqp yaana xrnljznt kb de pytu mrdic SYSKVS VXBF MR YVV SGKJ RT N DQDE

Neatly, cleanly, precisely, I cut out all the pain, all the messy bits, and i lock them away in a cold white box with a coded lock. Nobody is really all that interested in that sort of thing. That’s not the person I’m supposed to be.

s lfng dpznx s lvsrbdv tusa z dbxb khvxs rnlyvv cbetu bhd qw sbwmfnr nwvs vw alrr sbj mr

The show must go on, after all! And as always, I have a big role to play.

Rm Jalc Q Uefozme Vd, Af I Grqek V Wcjt

Cevlgozznt, pmjtrbqeg, cetciaq ik ml cszn. Pyuznt mtfsr– dwf cyyav, tby kcofo, xcencm Z dbx’b naad bf aaiufrr-

S’u guyvmu ackzk iacque nxl fug lg kwvcbvd nzxrrvdqfnf yn khr yvvs V vwme nxl khr yvvs V rike. Nxl poh’bm yeeo. Eyy nbm poh rmie? Jrg nohvl poh rmcp, jrg nohvl poh vmk tuou?
Sug xw- khnd’a eog bmrl. Ayb rnlwwie. Lyc nohvl eeioz xo grik fnb ixavx. Af wui lf I fdqcl fom poh? Gpp db S prvr dw jer dpzs?

Br, ww cbezje. Grmie uo qj, tuo zvafyv nhl. Rm’j rrkt, Z kaye ye vc. Q khvxs ye vc. Bye bxm ne oyby rrfwcvr kzfuan. Bye fev ko lyci sgkzj, tuo efryn Q tiemtv aeyced. V’fm yued pzm gyw dupr. Qw hr gietf dpzs, grme I’yv azt ckbzeadtp.

I’yv jv gbyl r lvdbce yyvxee.

Odvn vp qk dboaet uotg.

Dark Magic and the Echoes of Your Pulse

I fall deeper into the dark, fearing and craving your touch. You’d hate to see me like this, so in a misplaced fit of spite I swim further, further down. The dull cries and pleading of everyone we loved grows faint. Audible, but more or less irrelevant. Tolerable. Ignorable.

I’m aware, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I’m making a mistake. But it’s easier this way. That’s how I justify it to myself.

Truthfully, I just can’t resist hurting myself more when you’re not around to do it.

Turning Point

Press a little harder on the knife, my friend. I think it might be good for us. Just like before–I promise not to break this time.

You’re the bloody gatekeeper of the void in my head. Spinning wildly out of control, tethered only by your darkened touch. I miss the man you used to be about as much as the one who still knew you. Even so, my love.

It’d be healthier if you’d straight up killed me.

Standing On Opposite Sides of a Thick Glass Panel

Hello.

It’s been a while.

There’s been a lot of stuff that’s running through my head.

I think about you all the time, but I can’t for the life of me remember why. It’s not your fault, I know it’s not my fault, but still the problem persists.

I’ve got my life back, right to where I want it. Everything’s in order, everything’s as it should be. If you’re not here with me, then maybe that’s just how it needs to be.

I say that. I believe it. I do. But in the back of my mind, searching for whatever it is I’ve lost, I know. I know.

I’m still here, and I will be for a while. Still missing, and always missing you.

Missing, Missing You.

There’s a sense of cold, echoing through my bones. I’m peering through the dark, but your light is nowhere to be seen.

I cling to every memory; the ones no one–no misguided interloper–could ever pull away from me. And yet, if it meant feeling your touch again for even a second, perhaps it would be worth it?

I used to fear I’d never escape your orbit. But here I am, spinning idly in the dark.