A crack in the spitting image of you and me

lines dividing our once whole hearts,

demarcations from fights,

rifts that used to be veins.

These thoughts drifted across my mind 

oh so fleeting because I never really thought it all made sense 

other than the bits and pieces that I weakly strung together, with a mind that was made for a purpose far better than this.

I never really had a complete thought after this,

after you.

Never really put any true thought into anything really.

Just the 

small

chemical

reactions

reacting

from within

to power a body slowly running out of time.

I'm starting to think the crack was in the spitting image of me.