Rook

There’s something incredibly discerning about you. I fail to put my finger on it, just as the rain outside increases its pace. There’s little light in the room, peering in from the curtains, just the way you like it. You’re enamoured with the notion of undiscovered frailty, a naive notion.

We count and recount.

There are sparks all over the room, the blue tips of flames engulf us, one last time. I will help hold your drowning head above the water; I whisper in your ear.

One last time, let yourself go to the breaking waves.

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