Leaving

I can see you with my eyes.
As of now, you're in front of me
like I want you to be.
But the truth that I let my eyes in
is like the horizon
as it falls onto my shoulders.
You have to leave.
But, as long as you're in front of me
I can stab at bits of peace,
and grasp at air, to breathe.
But as the world starts to fall
like four walls surrounding me,
I feel too deep,
I think I have no escape from this fate,
from an echoing dark
that carves at my heart,
but once I get enough pieces so that I can breathe,
you have to leave.
We all have to go.
Next time I see you,
the ground will be laced with snow.
And I don't know what to do
because soon,
I'll be leaving, too.