The Space Between Things

Like between your fingers,

as if made for interlocking hands

hands made to capture what hearts want

abstract but destructive.

floating through space till you die

struggling with weight the world put on you

when there's stars and quasars

shining just for you, eternities since

and for eternities more.

a graveyard of cosmos, where

all things alive go to die

a lifetime of birthdays later

into the quiet of the unknown.

the vast abyss of pure darkness

a space of absolute nothingness

a collosal vaccum filled with absence

of existence itself,

feared by many and yet

loved by the likes of me.

I dream of swimming in this pool

where I'm lost- afloat and alone

home for my deafening mind

a place of respite, even for time

where I can't be found

I drift away from everything I know

a place where I can go to

to become someone's memory,

someone's story of love or regret.

For so long, I've loved and longed

for the stars to take me home

life is for the living and so is death

I wish for neither but every now and then

I feel like the space in between things

like between your fingers,

as if made for interlocking hands.

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