I offered you my wings in hopes you would take flight. Salvaging the skin of open arms, grieving though you have left my side. Deception will eclipse our sinking sun, likening our form to silhouettes, when the light between us dims. Praying I could pull you out of hell though you grew dependant on it's warmth as you gathered bones from helping hands. In search of sedation: salvation sacrificed, replaced by the breath of strangled throats. A mutual disease in different forms: nourishing the need to escape from the curse of consciousness. Imprisoned by fixation, I understand your pain surrendering to my own source of slow death. Grieving though you haven't left my side, knowing that one day you'll disappear as I write a eulogy for those still here.