This too, will cease.
Like each before it, it will crumble.
Like every meeting of the lips, where in time we must draw away,
like every time I’ve held you in my arms, but had eventually to let you slip away,
this too, will cease.
And like everytime my eyes met yours,
or my skin felt the heat of your flesh against itself,
my eyes will draw away,
and your warmth will be forgotten.
This too will cease.
And my body will move from yours,
forever in the opposite direction.
And my thoughts will lose sight of you,
and so too will my mind.
like every other meeting of the heart,
with either you,
or anyone else,