Air

It's not going well.

Shut the door. Let's talk. Run around in circles before the dizziness takes over.

Will you be alright?

I'll light a cigarette, dim the lamp and watch your face in half a shadow's worth.

Is that alright?

The shadow diminishes as the you in you takes control.

Intimidating. Resonating.
Weak.

Do you want to sit closer? Shall I lean forward? People can hear us. Whisper.

I loved you once.

It didn't go well.

I must move away. Dizzy, dizzy. Circles. I must stop, get out. Help me, will you? Ensnared, I feel. An endless spiralling of musical illusions. Just think about it.

Is there anything you can do? Something you can say?

Open the door. We need air. Whisper, lest someone hear us.

We must whisper.

The twilight has caught your eye. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. We don't have time to waste. We don't have space to lend.

Gosh, you're beautiful.

Shut the door. Let's get to the point. Where were we? Yes. It wasn't going well.

Shall I turn on some music? Soft. Slow. Annihilating. Let it play. And replay. And then we'll rewind.

Like an old photograph, you're fading slowly. Bright and arousing, once. To toneless sepia.

Colourless.

It's not going well.

I need air.