Your smile... Well, it kills me, because it's the same one I used to wear. And I know it's not right, it's not pretty, and it's never fair, but it's true.
And the truth will set you free. Maybe.
I walk with you in strange places we've never been yet know to perfection, with winding roads that lead to vacant valleys and shallow hollows with sighing leaves. There's a crackle on the sidewalk, and a snap to the footsteps, and it makes my heart sink into my chest.
It's almost here.
Icicles close in, though I know it's far too warm. Your breath is hot and I'm shivering without a coat. Some days I smile, some days I laugh. Most days I sigh. My hands are trembling, but not from fear or joy--just from going through the motions.
That's what they said. Run through those damn motions.
It's almost here.
Plastic or paper matters little, because we'll all be trapped in ice sooner or later. Probably sooner. Your breath is frozen, steam turned to icicles, dripping from your lips. I'm entranced by the image of you, ghostly white, falling, falling, falling...
Falling faster, faster faster. Falling still. Colder than the deepest hell.
Somebody killed beauty while she slept up in that silly tower.
She's vanished.
It's here.
15 years ago
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