"I'm not worrying,
she said, "I'm free 
from all of this," 
she swore,
"I'm moving on 
and looking up,
Not dwelling 
on it anymore."

"You're hiding 
from yourself," 
I said, "That's 
why it hurts 
so much,
Denying that 
you're living
In the memories 
that you 
can't touch."

"I'm feeling 
better now, 
I think,
I'll make it 
through this," 
she replied,
"As long as 
I know you 
are with me,
That you are 
on my side."

"I'll have to get 
out there someday,
To live my life," 
I warned,
"To leave you 
to your misery,
To the past 
you've always 
mourned."

"You are the one 
who can't let go,"
She whispered low, 
so I stepped nearer,
My outstretched 
finger meeting hers,
Like pointing in a mirror.

This is the stuff 
of infinity,

Reflecting her,
Reflecting me.

"I think you know 
you're lying 
To yourself," 
I then accused,
"You don't know 
how to act unless
You're martyred 
and abused."

"You're right, 
I'm a worthless, 
eternal victim.  
I hate myself," 
she said,
"I know the 
world would 
be better off
If I were 
gone instead."

"You're twisting 
words again," 
I said,
"To make me 
the one to blame.
But I'll not 
argue anymore,
I quit your 
little game."

"You are the 
one who's fighting.
You are cruel," 
said she,
"Always looking 
for a way
To take another 
piece of me."

"No, it's you!" 
came my reply,
So angry that 
I shouted,
Hoping my 
conviction
Would mask how 
much I doubted.

I echo her echo 
as she echoes me,

And therein 
lies eternity.