It's that black. That endless, smothering, velvet night that weighs me down. If I were to reach out my hand to you, feet away, I feel as though I'd shatter some sacred pact between me and the world. I'd be ripping a hole the size of the universe in this delicate web between us. Between every pair like us. and they didn't ask for that. It wouldn't be fair. Yes, I've completely disregarded what I think you'd have to say about it,
but I'm usually wrong anyways.

I'm walking now, and it's starry curtains rolling all around, and the strength my broken arms are asking for to push through them is tempting me to turn around.

As it turns out though, I didn't.

Don't wonder. There's just more black over here.
Peaceful. Whole. Unyielding.

You're just impossible these days, did you know that? You can try to deny it and I can try to mask my anger, but we both know better. I believe I saw you pay a man $20 once to look my way so you didn't have to. You're the brother who went away to college and didn't ever phone or write or visit. Except you're not in Ohio or Michigan or Alaska. You're right here, right in front of me. Still you refuse to acknowledge this tear you've been so very careful to rip in me so that I wouldn't notice until your fingers weren't busying themselves with it.

I believe it's a nest you've built yourself, and how clever you were to do so. I've made sure to furnish it fully for you. You can see the gauzy flesh creeping its way over to try and cover what we've now together created, but quickly it is torn away like so many layers before it.

We're both looking a bit window washed, don't you agree? Look here, someone forgot to rinse you and the soap's getting in your eyes. Such poor care they take of us creatures. Mind the bucket dear, that you don't tip it over. I don't like to do much bending these days.

I would tell you to hurry along, but it looks like faithfully, predictably, you've already done so. Take note, your nest and I are sleeping in the same place we have been, just waiting. So when you're ready, you're welcome back. Always and always are you welcome and wished back.

Although they can't seem to make it 10 yards from their cage without becoming broken, bent, and all around worn out, they made good of what they were trying to be from what they really were. See, well, see. That's a funny choice of a word. Because really, it's all they can do. But you know, maybe...I guess that's alright. They don't have to commatize your phrases with their own, well... they can't, actually. But speaking from a humans point of view, we should learn to be more like them. Or I should, rather.

Could you say that slower, please? Maybe...with less words?
You're overwhelming me, and I can't really hear in this ear right now so,
hey. HEY! Stop. Inexplicably you've moved me to tears. you're not
supposed to have that kind of power. I was supposed to have
forgotten about you. You're still talking? No wonder.
Just, your timing is worse than ever you know! Seas
when there should be drought and not a drop when
we've all but died. It feels finished now.

Your eyes are crossed. I never noticed until now.

I never took the time to sit with you and ask why you liked poppies, and whistles, and the smell of cinnamon. It's a nice smell, that.

I'm holding that little leather pouch you used to carry. I remember the first time I opened it. I was upset because someone had set fire to the lavender field, and I hadn't the chance to pick you any, so instead of bringing you flowers I went home and found this. Matchstick people you had made, and with such care. Each had their own expression, carefuly constructed and made different by the bend in their brow or smile.

You were always like that. Giving a different hint of life to everything. Each word from you could be seen dancing and bending its way to the listener's ear, hands fluttering to accompany, lilting with the air.

The sky has just started setting orange, you know. If I climb up on my roof I can just barely brush it with my fingers. Truth is, it burns, but it reminds me of you, so it's okay.

No, no, that sounds horrible. What I mean to say is it reminds me of your hands. I never needed a bandage or mittens with your hands around. I'd only need to ask and yours would engulf mine, absorb whatever was the matter. I don't mean to sound tragic, but without, mine just seem so small and strange. So sad.

I have to go now, but the lavender is coming back this spring, and I promise I'll bring you some. No one ever thinks to bring flowers in the spring, its too typical. Reverse psychology, really.

This whole thing, it is in theory, right?

I mean, what else besides a hypothetical situation would warrant such a question?
You're way out of bounds here. You don't have the passcode and I am not. You're a thief.

Try again next year.

I haven't a name,
nor a face,
nor a voice.

I cannot shield you from the cold
I cannot hearken to what you may or may not speak.
Idly: here, I am.

It is only time
and only hope
that could waste their patience knowing.

walk on, fair friend
walk past and far from here.

I mean only harm
and deal only in numbers.

Miss, take me and you'll carry me forever.
Shrew and me a merry heathen, damned.

Free form to fall away from,
that's what I've given you.

What have you to offer me?