Peter Inglenook

Night is falling, I can smell grass and trees and life and truth. You are next to me, looking at the moon, the sky, breathing in this beautiful world of ours. Up here we can be together. Up here we are safe.

As I draw you closer, I can feel your face, wet from the tears you have been weeping. This is hard. It is even harder for you than it is for me. The birds are still now, the oak tree is our only consolation. And your kiss. Part your lips now, love, part them and drink deep. Don't be afraid. I am right here.

The wind is getting colder, each particle of air feels like a sharp ice crystal piercing my skin. You shiver. I want to hold you, but it hurts so much. Why these tears? Why us, why me? There is blood, your mouth, bubbles of blood. Is there supposed to be blood? Please, breathe, just one second longer. Just one more moment of you and me.

This is not a medieval romance. This is real, and it hurts, and it will hurt even more. The pain will not stop until we are gone. I am shivering too now. But the ice crystals are gone and I can hold you again. Come into me. Your blood feels warm on my chest. You look at my eyes. They do reflect the moon, they do reflect, they do not see.

Where are you? Will you come back if I sing for you, love? Don't leave me here alone. Please.