Concealed under the strong cushions of the night,
The highest terrace where strands of hair fell down into a pit of darkness
You reach, however your arm is torn from moving and you're breath seals into the covers.
You run into the cove
with candles, glowing and floating under the vent of strikes
Blazes cover the seals of bricks sitting against the electrical wires, twisting into multitudes
Breaking apart the sheets to stand solemnly, and limping to reach them through the thunder
Layers upon layers of broken ash filling the whispers which creaked under the doorstep.
