Folie
or perhaps you'll see him standing in a doorway
// who knows which dark doorway in a house full of shadows //
and he'll be smiling in a rogueish way // hair falling over his eyes //
and you'll run the obligatory gamut of disbeliefgriefrelief
// what does it matter he's here now he's safe //
and you'll run down to meet him head on with a greeting.
... it'll die on your lips past the first obscene crack of your voice.
it'll die in your heart with the cold and the black of that void.
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