Mist

Modern romance, like Greek tragedy, celebrates the mystery of dismemberment, which is life in time. The happy ending is justly scorned as a misrepresentation; for the world, as we know it, as we have seen it, yields but one ending; death, disintegration, dismemberment, and the crucifixion of our heart with the passing of the forms that we have loved.

• Joseph Campbell

You took your leave suddenly and it has broken me try to navigate through the nights but they're so lonely

Call to you in the haze of a fever dream the how and why of what's become they aren't what they seem

I'm just a ghost of myself and you the mist I breathe Empty echoes from the years that were supposed to be I quell the rage that poisons me from the inside Colors falsify the world is just a fragile lie

Take away the part of me that found a safe place Death stole in and I can't spit out the bitter taste Wait for me across the stars where twisted fates toil Bide my time, suffer the flames Give up my blood for soil