I saw in your eyes what it meant to make pain a fortress – and what that fortress was keeping out. I saw and knew the name it carried. It should be like this, you said, the heat from your blackened words finding space in the ice of my white silence, because the beautiful ones are not yet here. I extracted from this a space into which I could bury my heart. I let it hang empty and stood resolute in the fact you were not yet here. That your return was the cause of my departure and that we would meet again. When the lies we told each other were ghosts unafraid to run into the river that stretched wider than my eyes could understand. When I was so far as even the blood, haunted and trespassed, unable to carry the vigil it's full distance. What the centre holds yet cannot complete you undertake in a moment, simply by running your fingers gently above a flame. The re's dance is a held space against interrogation, in the night that comes always, down, as a veil. As the full weight of darkness.
DoubleSpeak 