“What do I do with the knowledge and understanding that I would rather dance with your ghost than walk with the flesh and bone and blood and beating heart of anyone else? With the fact that I would rather lie here alone and reach out to cradle the empty indention of where you once rested, than feel it filled and graze the heated and hollow skin of another? How can I measure the distance between us? Is it in minutes or miles or hours or the most minute of millimeters? When we kiss and the holo of our electrical fields, and the skin of our lips finally sink together, is it close enough then? Can I crawl through it and close my eyes on your side of the skin we wear? I just know that I would rather listen to your brand and timbre of silence than hear a thousand songs by a thousand choirs ringing through the vaulted and exalted ceilings of a thousand churches.
Sing to me with your silence and I will feel it pulse against my eardrums like waves on a lonely shore. I will let it lull me and soothe me and fill the locks in me since I began.”
