Cracked ribs & tombstones

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A pondering on the idea of soulmates, experiencing grief and the importance of treating people with kindness while they're still alive.

I can't feel my body.

I look in his direction to find

He can't feel his body either.

Something's different, though -

My heart is the only one still beating.

With a gearbox lodged in his upper body,

What's left of him

Vainly reaches out for his soul as it drifts off.

 

My mind wanders

To the moments before this catastrophe.

Maybe we wouldn't have crashed

If he hadn't been arguing with me.

 

Hanging on the fringes of infinity myself,

My thoughts turn to our lives together.

We were once cannibals, he and I.

We fed each other

From atrium to ventricle,

To atrium, to ventricle,

To atrium...

And so the beat went on,

Collaboratively.

 

Again, my mind wanders

To the moments before this catastrophe.

Maybe we wouldn't have crashed

If he hadn't been crying with me.

 

He spoke frankly:

"Tonight, we're ironing out some kinks;

Kinks in our hair,

Kinks in our jeans

And kinks in our soul".

 

I could still feel our heartbeat

In the moments before our soul left him.

I remembered how

He'd written me esoteric love letters

In his kisses.

The cure when he ailed

Was encrypted in my lips.

 

Tonight,

We neatly packed our dreams in boxes.

Folded carefully and labeled systematically,

We posted them to heaven for safekeeping.

That moment in the upside down

Carcass of my car revealed to me

Something new:

God recycles our dreams when they outlive us.

 

To cut a long story short,

Part of me wishes I didn't escape death that night.

It would have been the lesser evil.

But now I have access to our recycled dreams -

The collective reduced, enabling me to reuse and repurpose.

 

In the midst of it all,

Cracked ribs and tombstones

Gave me a life lesson:

There's no need to drop bombs

On the dormant spaces land mines are found on.

Sometimes we really can

Kill with kindness.

 

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