Poles apart

That silence is deafening and sets me into disquietude. Blaring sirens go off with consummate tranquility. As moments flit past thoughts recur, rewind. Each time driving the nail further down. Each memory turns into a piercing shrapnel. Its titillating and throbbing. One that tries to belie the inexorable truth. Her gentility a foil to my bestial ways. I wonder and marvel at her imperfections. Those which perfectly light up my world. Devoid of traits noteworthy, those which I see in others and those which they portray, which sits so fulsomely in that bloody biological void which palpitates in all its futility. I catch fleeting glimpses of her intentions whose kernels elude me. I forage for clues in those misleading trails. Flustered with her omnipresence yet contrasting absence. Stranded in a island whose shores she frequents and ebbs. She is the sea. She's the island's all and only neighbor. The island waits for the deluge. Tempests run amok this island as whimsically as wafts of insane sanity. A threshold so daunting and so chimerical as much as figment. The more I seek the farther, the more distant she goes, elusive her. Be rid of her I can't even if I may so try. I chase a shadow and the next moment try and run away from it. Not mutually exclusive not mutually inclusive. A drudging troll am I and she an angelic elf. My affection as profound as my blind hate. A venom without which death is a certainty. Life blooms or withers? Am I falling into an endless abyss or perfectly still? If we are poles apart then our universe is horseshoe-shaped. Not a moment later I'm an asymptote and her Descartes' Folium.