the prism

And when the world starts to fade

and the fiery reds burn to ash

and you can't see the colours anymore

Understand.

That it's not the world that's fading

but you that's standing in the light.

if left unread, this ink will fade

and all she was now

(all she'd ever been)

was a line

in a story

on a page

of a book

on a shelf

in a room

that was locked.

and he knew he'd never have the key.

stage one: denial

Inside of my head, we talk for hours.

All day, and well into the night.

Converse about everything and nothing, stupid non-events, stupider co-workers.

Whisper the dreams we're still scared to believe in.

And we laugh.

So much laughter.

It's just so easy, you know, because that's how it always was.

We never ran out of things to say.

So we just keep sharing.

The connection's still so strong.

Inside of my head.

Of course, every morning I wake up.

And you didn't call.

And you don't miss me.

But we'll talk about that soon, I know.

Inside of my head.