This journey to futility’s edge
became longer the minute your direction
became contrary to ours.
Hours spent in lock step kept
two hearts fighting for their last breath.
The depth of sorrow could fill tomorrows on end
and send all hope packing along with you.
But it was true to form; the norm for us
when trust and love were not enough.
Walking becomes a solitary excursion
on life’s diversion, my sides are exposed
and my arms hold nothing but the spectre of you.