“Subject reports being ‘left behind.’

Pattern suggests retention of self with loss of co-referential memory object.

Monitor for progressive isolation phenomena.”

Isolation phenomena.

A safe phrase.

Safer than:

Someone is missing inside him.

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I remember the silence.

You remember the sound.

I remember the falling.

You remember the ground.

I remember the promise.

You remember the cost.

I remember the moment.

You remember what’s lost.

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WE ARE IN THE DARK All three will remember this differently.

This is where the story fractures.

There is a kiss. Or there isn’t. (Or there is more)

Or there is, but not how it’s remembered.

Intimacy without clarity is still intimacy.

We are in the dark. Together. Whether that is comfort or threat remains unresolved

It is winter. Not poetic winter — but that brittle, metallic kind. The air smells like iron and distant smoke. Frost stiffens the ground. Every breath is visible. The trees were black silhouettes against a sky the colour of old bruises.

Snow clung to the branches in thin, trembling lines.

The air was so damn cold it felt hollow — like sound couldn’t travel through it.

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Things people pretend not to want:

• intensity

• permission

• loss of control

?PASSION

Household checklist

Edges aligned. Surfaces wiped twice. Objects returned to their places.

A note at the bottom:

Disorder looks like carelessness until you live with it.

He mistook her exactness for control.

She mistook his looseness for indifference. Both were partly right.

A bed made too tightly. Sheets pulled smooth enough to erase evidence of use.

A note beside the description: Restraint leaves marks too.

You just don’t see them immediately.

1. Be pure.
2. Be filthy.
3. Be nothing.

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An anechoic chamber is designed to absorb reflections and all sound. I wanted to hear myself clearly.

I didn’t expect this much of me to disappear. Dreams without images. A person trapped in an anechoic version of reality.

Waking without relief.

If no one hears you,

do you still mean what you say?

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I miss how easy it was before we tried.

Draft saved three times. Never sent.

Glue fails under stress.

So do metaphors

Love is supposed to connect things.

This just highlights the cracks.

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These are the tales from the Caspian Sea

And If I follow the story far enough

I might finally reach you

But if I find you

Are you

what I need you

to be?

So nothing ever ends the same

Every tale has a different ending

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Identity isn’t discovered.

It’s negotiated.

List titled “Definitions”

• Love: alignment

• Freedom: absence of obligation

• Honesty: saying it out loud

Someone has written underneath:

Or avoided.

Ontology didn’t answer anything. It just made the questions louder.

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