The Tripod of Emptiness

My curse,
never to touch the feeling of your final moment,
and yet you traced a kiss upon my eyes—
is this not how 'love' happens?

My curse,
that day, even holding your heart so close...
I walked this path in utter despair, every inch unknown—
is this not how one 'survives'?

My curse,
I loved you deeply,
could only keep you safe in name,
yet as if our fate were bound to some appointed destination—
is this not how one 'returns'?