unequivocal.

4

the fondest of our times was when you dragged me into your world.

the world of the night owls and non sleepers.

i remember at first i refused too afraid to seek out the dark that night just like every night, until you held up your lighter. it's brown leather casing was worn from the many times you had slid your fingers along it to trigger the flame.

the funny thing was you didn't smoke, yet you always had a lighter.

it's flame flickered before my eyes, as you watched me your eyes creasing at the sides in a small smile.

"take this, it will be your light wyatt, just like that shadows are my darkness"

that was when we truly got eachother.

we found our own ways of coping with each others unusual persona's yet really i didn't help you at all. if i did you would still be here and not me.

as i write i'm sliding the lighter through my fingers, triggering the flame to take the edge off, just as you did. maybe thats why you did it, it was you own form of rebellion by being able to be the one to control your light. unlike me, nothing can control the shadows, they are just, there. there is no way of escaping them.

though i wish i could.

escaping the light was so much easier for you wasn't?

wasn't it?

oh my sparrow, why did you have to drain the light from your life.

wyatt