Sprung forth in the life of night,
I hurdle towards the hinges between us
to throw free the locks and arrest the tone
of this cage's sounding bell.

Uprightly silent; eyes met 'fore the open portal
and violently aligned in hope
—that like a drive
through the dark and quiet of its deep black;
we might feel anything, finally.

I've seen it happen,
so I know how it looks.
And it looks the way this is beginning to.

Just some at first; only a few.
But then more after that.
And even more after those are gone too;
swallowed by the spaces in between.

Hearts thrown open wide;
the feeling of her held close
buries deep inside.

Life my house up high.
Held above your head.
Jolt. Rattle. Rummage.

And when you're done;
after the whole of the unfastened
is trickled out its shattered windows,
ripped screens,
and hanging doors;
promise to let me stand quietly at your side;
where you'll look towards me
just like the first time,
and say it all over again
—the way it is,
when life is mostly hurting
and you can't handle things.

So the story will be;
or the first one, at least.

Lay still with me here in the dark.
Let the rumours sing us both to sleep.

And in the morning, we'll emerge together
to carry on minding the gaps with such life
that they'll hear it back in London.