the dry creaking again stirs from behind-- just behind. It's touch-less grasp sends shivers up your side in an uncomfortable embrace. You are wrapped up, snuggled, in this cold. It burns. An abusive lover. One you love to hate.

Always.
Always right in your ear.
Whispering.
Whispering "truths" with a lying tongue.

The long descriptions lull you into complacency with creamy vocabulary, the comfort of steamed milk and espresso.

...and you dance with deception to a slow waltz.

You wonder to yourself where you learned how to dance like this, you must have always known it. It feels natural.

The rhythm feels like your heart beat.

You must have always known this.

Your thoughts feel like an echo your thoughts feel like an echo.

-you miss a beat-

Who said that?

Tighter the web weaves leaving little wiggle room. The room feels stale as the lights fade.

Something...

something slips your mind. Something you have always known. It dances too... just on the edge of consciousness. There at the end of the tunnel. Towards that light.

The Light.

Suddenly stumbling, your head spins. You feel a rush as the beat picks up. The steps are too fast to keep up -but you dance. Your head is heavy like waking from a thick drunk.

The Light tears into you. You glitter through the holes left by something from another life. You shine.

The others...
have stopped.
They notice you-

are different.

You are changed.

What was stale and dark now fresh and white.


The air is cold and fast. And comforting.

And it feels

feels like...



Love.