I might continue this...

"Outside" we'd call it, the rest of the world. A / that word the white of an eye, vacant, a blank canvas.

I used to find you invincible. Your shoulders sharp as brackets, angular,

We were just children when it happened, heels hot on the asphalt, a black burn like a black hole. How were we to know it could swallow us whole, our charcoaled feet ensnared like caged ravens.

Asleep, I am someone else, transcendent, immortalised. That is the problem. In dreams, I melt, skin woolly and soft/loose like felt fibres slowly unravelling, until my face is a cotton candy blur. I ...

It's been too long and now I am hollow. I think of those old notes you sent me. Then I know what I am to you.

You emerge with slit eyes half moon bags beneath them,