Alone, we are, spinning and weaving.
I try to reach across the galaxy to your hand - is there more to you than just mere form?
Your eyes and mouth sown shut, the moss that covers your skin eats it's way into the folds that time has given you.
Your outline glows, a last corona, as your light dies away. I see among the shadows the end of you spinning and weaving away from here, from us, from me.
I hold your hand, still, as I promised when you could still hear. I feel your fingers - dying embers of your life, and our together life.
All is past: you, me, life and all I have - photos of ghosts that haunt our life, and the eternity that lies between us.