You look at me with the same worn-out urge, and the world falls silent. I’ll beg you to lay down, one last time. Let me draw a map on your skin. I’ll connect all the dots. All of the ins and outs of our twisted, intricate, worlds colliding. Folding and unfolding. I never would have pulled at that loose string, had I known it would be the start of the unraveling. If I stitch a little faster, can I buy us more time? I wish to tangle myself into you, but the distance grows. And I know that you now, are just still pictures. Motionless, light-less, and anything but here. And I will retreat, back into myself, defeated, sewing my chest closed. Here I will wait, a deaf and dumb audience, waiting for the flood of something familiar. And I will drown in it.