if i could, this is what i would tell you
how the shutters cut light into slices
pale blades on the ceiling and walls
how it cuts off your voice in my dream
how the shutters cut light into slices
how i wake in a cushion of fog
how it cuts off your voice in my dream
how it insulates me from your absence
how i wake in a cushion of fog
empty of you and all others
how it insulates me from your absence
empty of you and all others
empty of you and all others
i hold myself in my arms
darkness takes shelter in corners
pale blades on the ceiling and walls

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