I am broken, scarred and tattered, but I look at you and I know, you’ll break me. I am held together with plasters; they are fragile and peeling but they are holding because no one gets near them. A small gust of wind is a threat to the pieces. But you, you are a hurricane ready to cause turmoil and chaos. You aren’t just a threat, but you are the end. Looking at you is like looking into the abyss, there is nothing after. Just you.
The closer you get, the weaker I feel. The pieces are starting to crumble, the light is dimmer, my breathing shallower. With every look, touch, laugh, smile, I’m edging closer to my demise. I can feel live leaving me, the pieces falling. Turning to dust. There is no going back, no way out. You are the last thing I will feel, see, hear, breathe and I’m hoping that the eternal abyss that is you is worth my end.