forward

the candles linger, burning her sight in red. shadows expand their form, hold their breath to ache her heart. though she can feel their fright, her vision rests in a place far from where her exhale begins. here and there, her attendance is accounted for, with marked points to allow access past the gates. she stays everywhere, with the agreement of brief encounters. movement is oxygen. and her strings must remain free, to pull the others together. any part that stops, turns the flow in contrary angles, causing disruption to the symphony that plays in your heart.