the range of decay

i can still remember the look in your eyes the day i buried you. a sort of disappointment crept out from behind the wall of tears but there was no surprise. i didn't think i would have it in me to go through with it but the truth is i didn't feel a thing as i covered up the last remaining hole between you and my world. at first, filled with paranoia, i checked over my shoulder each and every moment to ensure that no one would notice you lying there. slowly, over time, i realized that nobody would ever find you and i even forgot the exact spot i had picked out for you myself. i can still remember the day i chose to end the rest of yours. burning hot with rage, your conviction became too much for me to bear. unfulfilled potential created mountains of expectation in my mind. shame curled up next to me and i haven't stopped loving her ever since. i can still remember scrubbing the dirt from beneath my nails. i dug until my hands became raw from the sharp edges of the course gravel. blood ran down my arms and tears ran down my face but you weren't there to tell me everything would be fine. or were you? i can still remember how we used to walk hand in hand. i can still remember clinging to every single word that fell from your beautiful lips, though few they may have been they sustained the life in these now brittle bones. i can still remember the desperation i felt when we were apart, a love both frantic and uninhibited. and then gradually, your voice became muffled and unrecognizable, a noise accompanied by static and scorn. but memory is a funny thing. i can remember every little detail but your last words to me. i can't even remember the last thing you ever uttered and the worst part is i know that it was the truth i need to see me out of this storm i am dwelling in. i'm up to my neck in my own deceit and the irony is the only one who can save me now is buried under miles of forgotten terrain. is it too late? can you still breathe under all those heavy stones of unbelief? can you even move under the weight of the constricting cords of indifference? or are your lungs full of the corrosive dirt of lust? i will dig until my fingers are cut to bone. but will that be enough? am i too late? i just need to hear your voice again before i am welcomed into my watery sepulcher. the deluge has begun, am i out of time?