The Fingertips of Fate

They held each other inside their bruised arms and collapsed into each other's once vibrant souls. Their tears melted perfectly with the careening droplets of rain that pelted their leather topped facade- blow after blow- and streamed endlessly like a polluted river across their faces. Their battered bodies lie Face to Face. True. As true as any lover could be. Face to Face. And yet, neither of them could surmise the true warmth that they felt resided deep within them. Neither of them could put into words the sheer ecstasy that that they felt enveloped the others very existence. It transcended any humanly possible form of communication. The love that once flourished between them had given way to something more than either of them could have ever imagined. Something more than any mortal soul could ever conceive. Fate. Lying there. Lying inside their cavernous abyss of empty needles and filled up condoms was one last breath. One last chance to gaze into each other's wonder, and imagine what might have been. One last stinging breath to realize the potential of the imagination. One last breath until they're free. Fate had brought them together and will soon see them part ways. The cruel finality of existence. The battering ferocity of life - or lack thereof. Fate lies just beyond that corner, waiting with baited pleasure as the wilted flowers traversed the planes of each others endless thoughts and final accusations. The world meant nothing. An endless cycle of rotting regurgitated remains. Nothing else had ever mattered and nothing else will ever matter. Nothing but smoke. A slowly slithering line of smoke, drifting eternally towards the ends of the earth, to blacken whatever lung may inhale. It lifted, beyond the pale beyond, striking free from the invisible shackles of humanity, forever. They once thought of time as a never-ending freefall, but the charlatan had become uncloaked. A varnished tapestry of hysteria. Ticking its last ticks away deep inside its padded room of desperation. Clawing away at the windows until its fingernails bled into oblivion. Screaming into silent silence until its tortuous voice grew hoarse. Lost inside the twisted vortex of reality. But they didn't care. They were lost inside their own inclusions. Lost inside their phantasmal form of reality. A fleeting remnant of what used to be and a delusional specter of what they wished it had been. Nothing could awaken them from their blissful sleep. Nothing but the sweet kiss of fate. The cold embrace of inevitability. The bitter release of their final, vacant, breath of life.