It's orgasmic to see how people die ...their presence .... in your life. Yet they are alive. It's terrible to feel how you live in their conscious conscience yet die in their ....moments. It's perhaps vulnerable to think how deep their touch had been like a necromancer's magic mirror reflecting all your intense blood. You want to touch that mirror and taste that blood but like fleeting ephemeral dust they evaporate. ....the moments die an untimely death like you did inside me. I killed you. Yet, in some other solitary night shall we meet when you meet me alive in my words , soliloquies and asides.
I may know a previous you or a later you. But but. .but the you of this ....these moments is dead. I killed you.