Temple
We were in the box again. With air so stagnant it grew heavy, holding us inside. There was a window we never looked out of; windows had always framed pictures too beautiful to accommodate the both of us together. There was a door, but to us it was the smallest window we ever saw, flashing the most beautiful images - painful in its captivations. So I chose to only look at you, you who were far removed from any picture. Wherever you went you were elsewhere; I could hear the echoes in your lungs, you were breathing in a different air. I could imagine the lighter steps you take in your dreams, as I witnessed your body fight its rest, predicting nothing. You were exactly what you looked like, entirely complete in one body - my absence couldn't threaten. A body so full within itself, bound beneath a skin that had stretched so thin and tight, as though fearful of what it could no longer contain, existing just to surrender. From the beginning I knew you were never meant to be seen; you were too complete on your own. Too shiny. You knew I would drain all else so your light never goes out, and you should have known the worst thing you could do was to let me.