Below the Bridge- Free Form.

The tunnel was devoid of darkness, death rotted at my dirty feet. Bare; barely breathing and preparing for burial when you emerged, a halo of holiness, your light so blinding I was born again, and again.

And you were so dipped in misery, so messy (a disaster!) but I followed with fearless faith, your monotonous silver voice banded in black, you said you hate cats, I laughed because I see why- I see you now, so ludicrous you are.  

The birds sang- but not sorrowfully loud like your screams- I wailed along, filled that emptiness with raw rage, rotting meat ripened in my gut; it grows into a choir of commonality; a connection too evolved for conversation, too enthusiastic for the collapse and crumbles hidden just behind hardwood, buildings burning, hot smoke sneaking beneath the keyhole. 

The doorknob melts, sealing all delusion within the bitterly blue room; and how can we care for the chaos when in here it is so calm, so smothered with cathartic virginity, so cosy we are suffocating in creamy silk, in a cocoon void of penetration. 

Rubble seals the tunnel in total darkness; I still see your eyes twinkle.