Laceromembrum

                                    

                                          
I'm going to make up a word now. 
Laceromembrum,
To tear each piece apart.
Lacero, tear to pieces,
Membrum, each division,
Of me. 
There is no considering the possibility in which I lose him,
Because doing so would be tragedy.
Losing him would be losing a piece of myself, 
And any love I have too soon thereafter is a band aid on a gushing arterial laceration,
Something that cannot be fixed without the sutures of a simple facet-
Time.
There is no "what would it take"
Only "how much would it hurt". 
In the world where I lose him, 
I am torn apart. 
To shreds. 
I already will be, Sol,
I am suffering from laceromembrum,
And I can't, can't, can't escape.
"Him" is more than simply aeternum,
But you, Sol, as well-
The only difference is the speed.
To boil a crab, 
You slowly increase the temperature,
And before it knows it,
It is dead. 
Laceromembrum,
Slow and steady,
Torn to bits and pieces as I give parts of myself away. 
I am losing you. 
I am losing "him" no matter what way I go,
And to lose you slow tears me apart,
But to lose him fast is to cripple me. 
There simply isn't a "what would it take",
There simply is laceromembrum.