Giving myself this chance to speak; to be the sound that even I can barely fathom. Bend ear with me and give a breath of notice. Give way, that the sound might pour itself in.
There are words within words, changes to bridge desire, and these still moments which seem to bind them all together. This is just a moment, marked by the subtle sound of pen scratching against paper - whispering its secrets to the page, but the page holds no recollection of the sound. This won't last... this won't be what it was, when it began. When it actually happened.
These are traces of a moment, of a thought, of a secret lost.