Specters In Discourse

CHRIS : I was there, beside the jasper and mango of the stained glass, watching as the machine turned my eulogy into your tears.

And those were my arms that you felt around your chest, that day on the hill as you knelt and placed the bouquet. I watched as your fingers traced out the name on my grave.

Forbear a little and suffer me to say that amidst our bereaving sorrows we have found comfort.

SEAN : You'll find me nestled closely to your grave whispering, quietly, so not to disturb your sleep. You keep your eyes closed so well and I keep one eye open just to make sure that you're still not here.