Take It Down Again

It might be the last time I breathe
with the drops of the sea raining
and my might turned to wet sand
bound up tight inside my hands.
Your voice still belting out the sounds
in the vicious circles of hate bound.

Raining spray in sand washing away,
climbing up the precipice, over the bay
clamboring up like I have any breath
because that last gasp is still left
between we who heard above noise
that returning, excruciating ploy.

Never was this harsh gap
ever to fill as long as I gasp
and you cannot go if I stay.
You started a game I still play
when long the days stretch
-in that absence, I'm entrenched.

"For you, I would open the sky,
give you release from all of life,
play out this game to its end
and break the time apart, again,"
you whispered that promise before,
and with that I believed in more.

Is it this time? Do I get that end?
Or am I left to fend off, and mend
the feeling of decimated hopes
wound up tight, still, in ropes
you forged before I knew how deep
all of this would solidify the need.