Thread a memory from candlelight, night doesn’t end when I see you, evenings pretend they don't exist until you remember who you are, mornings know you better than you do, that’s why you sit in darkness. If molten words fell into my chest, I would empty every joy into you, but a closed window’s breath stops memories from distilling our anger. Tears become evaporated reminders to rescue us from the forgetfulness we carry to survive the harshness devoted moments carve inside of us. Time spells a nervous reaction 'til it yields us into submission, in response I crawl into the tongue of a bell, wait for that moment that will wake us up, but stillness gives everything I own to a nothingness I desire to forget, but can’t. I can’t because you’re not there to be forgotten. I can’t forget what isn’t there, what isn’t mine, what isn’t meant to be forgotten because it doesn’t exist. Still night, no moon, a mirror speaks to the nothing I desire to forget, alone it spreads a wish to be a glimmer but I’m frightful of knowing myself avant a well-lit forest that sees transparent who I am before I do. That’s why I hurl mud against the window, seem angry, but am not. I’m fear before it sees itself, mal-darkness craving for the ocean's reflection before day breaks its heart.