As the lights of the day bled into each other a silence, like a shady veil, fell between us. It was more like a worn-out pilgrim: he came home to stay: placing his muddy shoes on the doorway for knowing no wayfarer ones remained.
Without a shadow of a doubt, I used to angelize you. And you needed no enlightening for your still kept sharpening your shiny blades. Now I am at aphelion; further from the breathing blaze than ever yet still I am capable of coming clean: