poetry for the poetic: 5

XLVIII

you say my name, emotion latching onto the emphasis, in the way it clicks in the quiet.

it feels complete, like you haven't had to cut off the end of my name like cutting off ties, like maybe ties weren't cut all along, like maybe they were just frayed.

i choke on my wrong doings. i want you, i had said, and i hear your question over and over again.
"how long for?"

my arms are around you before you can spit out any more guts. forever i want to say, but forever is a lie, forever doesn't exist and I want to apologise for it. you grip me and i can hear things you're not saying. 

"how long for?"

"till the candles burn out."

"how long for?"

"till the sky hits the ground."

"how long for?"

"until the end of time."

forever doesn't exist.
"always." 

i hear it in the wind and name that always too. i will want you until the end of always.