Amaranthis

Though they're often meant to bind,
Words can seem to say or find
What divides the auras, two
Of mere consciousness, me and you.

Through the cracked and peeling walls
I hear your whisper, hear your calls
Like a sullen being, denied
of breath, and tears, those which I cried.

Through the rattle of the rain
Upon your shattered windowpane
My heart beats fast
Races past,
Run-in last.

But just so you know,
I'm not letting you go.