What else was there to do, and who else was there to be? Lying beneath the swollen skies elapsed by time we couldn’t sense or see. No worries were equal or even any lesser than the realms now kept secret beneath a silenced Sea.
I wrote just to pass the time, and you passed me cheap cigarettes. That was quite alright with me. I enjoyed your mystery. With much less ease and better company than in your waking misery. Your eyes are fragile, tracing– as if it all may have been a test to me. What help is it to aide or further administer these said insanities? It’s sad to me. How twin souls dance so recklessly together to end with flaming hearts, bred to battle and once again release. An abrupt end; the fatal cast and final sin. “Is this at all how our story ends?”
They now could tell,
We were aching to be free.