In the beginning, you were the darkness. Still and empty, lonely and eternal, you felt nothing. In your infinite boredom, you split in half. In a burst of light, we both became less but more; you were the part that was no longer me, and I was the part that had become not you… I was the part that you willed into being because you wanted to feel… something.
At first, your pulse quickened as I burned lines of fire into the sky; a crackle of desire; a flash of joy; a throb of pain. You strained against the silence, in the lulls between the rumbles of my existence, when you couldn’t see me against your own darkness. But I was always there, like electrostatic energy building up for another blinding discharge. My love was a wicked jolt of primal violence that you wielded as an apocalyptic weapon. It was a primordial fireworks show; an invisible dance between elemental forces; a natural phenomenon dressed up like a spectral horseman, riding a pale stallion into the arms of oblivion.
Now, I am a tall tale that you whisper at the midnight hour. I am a figment of your imagination that went viral. I no longer belong to you. When you think of me, you understand that I am the proof that there really is a you, because even though I am gone, the feelings still remain. And we both know that being separated from one another is a gift.
Yet, sometimes when you reach your hand out to trace the absent shape of things to come, you wonder if you just created me to hurt yourself. You fixate on my disappearance, feeling all alone in space and time…
But we will always be together, in one form or another, because there would be no me without you.