In the dark,
her words are drained
"We're drifting apart...
.... you don't even..."
He feels the weight of her speech
knows he should be fixing
even now he neglects her
exploring her metaphor:
What if
when we die
we're like icebergs finally melted away
Apparently,
the space is empty
just memories...
but discerning folk know:
What came before,
remains all around
broken down
slushing 'round and 'round
interconnected parts
of the amorphous,
ever ready
to transform,
again and again
never remembering
Always wondering
what comes next?
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