i was.. so tired as pen fell from aching fingers, finished before a proper beginning, love faintly scrawled, screaming at me from the whiteness it was.. do you remember how we used to speak with a pause, there, between a feeling.

it takes so long, so long to articulate a moment with you, longer to know that it really is, was, could be.. could you be, stand here, not beside me.. "no, i really couldn't".

i always saw you ache, the penetrating pain slicing my weakened flesh deeper still, i know, you're dying.. until you close your eyes.

i lifted myself over soft curve and then, there was a pole, or a stick.. and i stood atop it briefly before i fell into the space next to it, trapped between a wall, and another gentle curve. further, i wanted to push onward but.. it was easier to remain and so, i did.