my friend made a fort of her bed with tapestries and lights and the five of us converged into a mass condensed to a point of peace and convalescence
time did not exist under that sheet with pin ****** of light laid gently on top the hours were not ours we hugged and shifted and peeled away the inner layers of an almost rotten onion
tears and eyes filled with a sad knowing that we murmured but did not explain always drawn closer in there was no point of critical mass no crevice small enough to ignore no words too true to be withheld
i spent twenty two hours there growing one with the mattress pads and wind chimes clanging as the heat hissed gently and found that silence that we always said we wanted just a moment of silence in which i was able to be