And he only spoke eight words that day,
and the space and the stars were heaving with his lies.
the ghost was breaking, bearing down harder now,
and yet she couldn’t escape his cold, lucid stare.

It was so much easier before,
because she had never really danced on the cobwebs.
so why was this time so much different,
than every other time. Mine. Yours. Ours. Then she ran.

Only sure of one thing. But that wasn’t even real.
and the mirror shattered into thirteen thousands floodlights.
Blinded by everything inside her fractured life,
She was beating fire through her bones and into the ground.

Haunt me and never leave me and ruin my life,
Her voice escaped in a choked whisper.
But there was no essence of breath, only escaping time.
Then it was her, the moon and his eight lost words.