'2'

[Listening to: 'When I Light Your Darkened Door' by J. Tillman]

She will not know it, nor will she recognise it
Her tendrilled shadow falls against everything behind her
Her ghosts are tired, old, ashamed
We stood face to face, shivering in that cold weather
The very spot where I bled every last drop of belief
From my eyes into the layer of rain at my feet, years before
Our arms were broken in so many ways that we couldn't hold each other
That never could we live in the present

( _")