As we lay side by side on a bed that knows us so well, outstretched on our backs for the final time, let us not embrace, not wrap ourselves tightly for history's sake. Instead please do me one last favour. Hold my hand.

 

Let us shut the lashes over our eyes and plunge. Soon we will be soaring. Swimming past clouds that spray plumes of white fleeting past like petals torn asunder and scattered by a thousand lovers before us. Soon we will be dancing, spiralling between ourselves, birds lending us their feathers as we dive. Breaking the ocean's icy surface, water warmed by our burning skin as we float now on tides swelled by our pulse. Waves embrace. And soon still. Tired and content, balancing effortlessly on nothing. Drifting across an abyss as one.

 

Soon we will wake. Soon we will cease. But soon is not now. Right now we are endless.