Everything Is Wrong About This

Imagine you and I are dead.
No- listen- as ghosts
We can no longer hurt each other's
Hearts. See? So there we are
In grey purgatory. Opposite sides of a
Table.
Sitting. Waiting. Even here
Our spirits are not one-
Two characters headstrong and violent,
Two bodies that they cannot now call home.

It doesn't feel the same any more,
Torn edges that no longer fit together,
Two halves that no longer make a whole.
Two pairs of lips that drip 'What if's
Two hands cold in an iron grasp

Our link, our love, our life is dead.
But- listen- as two
We can still do much, achieve all of our
Dreams. See? So then we'll be
Content. Opposite points of
View.
Sitting. Waiting. One day
You'll see this as I do;
Two characters mature and peaceable,
Two who will forever just be...there.