You have been pulled back into the past by a wrecking ball slamming into your side, spilling blood as it goes along its path of the destruction of someone else’s helpfulness. But we have also been thrust into the future against our wills. The two collide as you consider the way the wooden planks meet on the floor below you before all is dust, flannel and conifers. Your life, whatever there is left of it here, is evergreen. For this reason you squeeze your eyes closed as you wait for the end to come and expect me to join you, though I do not.
You wish you could tell me that there is so much more love than you expected, still flannel and conifers but freedom under the bluest sky you’ve ever seen. Your life, whatever there will be in the future is evergreen.
I am saved by a lover, but you question what exactly I have been saved for. If he loves me, doesn’t he want me to stay out of the dark and scary nights, away from the blood and hopelessness? To wait in a lonely room and wish I could have joined you when I had the chance? Your love for me is evergreen, and the last thought I have every night before I go to sleep is how glorious it will be to walk with you beneath those skies and hold your hand, no needles falling, no clouds to bring the rain.
Etcetera 