I'm a little bit aware
and very much afraid
that the repercussions of his actions
are the cause of my decay.

Hear me out, old friend.

I shake when any touch gets too close,
except for the Wind.

The same Wind that wind chased you
from house to home to...

Remember that time we were dancing
in a graveyard? We left flowers for the dead.
No one we knew, just unfortunate souls
buried under hazy layers of vague accusations
and (maybe) cries for help.

the Wind was there too.
the Wind was on the roof when we stood so tall
and in the secret stairway when we fell so low...

He lurked in the forest and carried you
down south, up north,
swept you across seas of hospital blankets
where you escaped on a ship of an
ever
expanding
fiction.

I am still shaking.