When you are gone I turn on different lamps. I watch documentaries, and eat foods you don’t indulge in. Lasagna, quiche and cherries. I dare to listen to my own voice. She feels for the families, you decry the murderers. I am reaching between the bars, and playing see-saw with a young girl on the other side. I light candles and put on lotion. I sing. I don’t dance alone, I only dance with you.

I was having a nightmare that you awoke me from. I couldn’t find my wedding dress, and it was the worst thing in the world that could be happening. How could I have lost my wedding dress? How terrible am I?

The answer is swift: You are pretty terrible. You don’t speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. With every dismissal of his purpose, you dig a deeper grave.

You will always have “Ten Dead Dogs.” You like the lyrics, his voice cuts through you, and you find yourself dancing alone. It is your baptism.

“And oh my god is this really what you want, would you tell us if it’s not and would you rewrite the plot and come and get us?”

I have stories still to tell. “for a brief moment I heard the whole earth groaning like there was something that it needed me to do.”

I am on my knees begging, just tell me what you need me to do.