If I look inside the can, will I see what I want to see or just another reflection of me. I climbed the stairs and landed firm, until I realised the banister was gone, my neck was in a noose and my slow death has yet to be confirmed.

As I wait my turn, I see your all your faces, laid out before me, coming at me, like a tsunami. I reach out and she catches me from my fall, softens the blow, feathers in tow. Death feels far far away, its not coming for me, not this day.

I feel inside out, with insides out. My heart and mind exposed, I still can't make sense of me. Call the cavalry, I might need rescuing, from myself. A true work of art, the picture of death, fit for austerity, yet my virtue profanity.

The noose is cut, I fall in to the dark. She follows and fixes my broken parts. Like a superhero she woes me, surprises me and stays. Who would have imagined me, all settled with a warm stare and a full tender heart.

The cracks they appear and I think I'll lose my mind. Give a shout, be brave, "call out", she says "if you need my help". But I've lost my voice, the music plays silently inside my damaged head and I've forsaken all beauty for laughs of the dead.

There's a path that leads from this place, an unwanted fate. I caress her thighs, erase all the lies and follow the river that flows between. The torrents carry me, her taste requires me to open my eyes and see her there upon our bed.

Breathing does not come easily, but her lips conquer me and all my fears. As white light descends I wear her name, etched upon my skin and I know I can not win this battle. So I form an arch and watch her pass beneath this crumbling edifice.

All this, yet the hands of another surround me. I am bound in flames of passion that were never destined to sustain, where rain pours as tears. There is a deep pit in which I stand, freedom is what I strive for in this make-shift grave.

Had I imagined all my mistakes, would I have taken all the steps? I'm not sure, yet life continues to follow me, a lost lover pining for the touch it once felt. Resignation is its gift, as it lingers now opposite, willing itself to hold me.

At dead of night it takes me back in to the fold, whispering our names with promises of everlasting love. I am not the keeper of my heart, but she takes the key, giving up any pretense of mutual dishonesty or ill will.

We awake every morning entangled in each other's breathing. Sleep encrusted eyes search out the oncoming tenderness beneath folded lids. Had all time stood silent I would be happy to confess my delight and my disdain at it still.

Time moves on, the seasons have changed and in the mirror I see a face I don't always recognise, tied to that of another. Unclear images of a past sometimes chase my eyes, but the waters wash them away and I am free to live.