It is something like black magic being erased through all the years, burned out with acid. You try to forget but always, some days, you will wake up and reach for a soft bed of ashes that lay next to you. Fingers buried in soft gray, dreams and nightmares entangled. Worst fears and greatest hopes, not even there. Who wrote that sad song? Melody remembered only when you are asleep. Then you shake yourself, just a dream, but the earth shakes with you. Whose grief was that? Regret for unspoken or unspoken regret? I know which is truer. I do not want to get better. Watching the world burn with only a memory in pictures. When the wind blows I will hear a whisper. If the sky unlocked, unrolled like so much parchment, why would I be afraid? I loved you, and for a time it made it better.
