If She Were Gone I

And Then He Tells Her Stories. Myths He Learned From His Instructor. Fantasies He Created Himself, Inspired By Bits And Pieces Of Others Read In Archaic Books With Crackling Spines.

I Have Tried To Let You Go And I Cannot. I Cannot Stop Thinking Of You. I Cannot Stop Dreaming About You.

It's Not A Real Name," She Says. "not One That He's Carried With Him Always. It's One He Wears Like His Hat. So He Can Take It Off If He Wants.

Only The Ship Is Made Of Books, Its Sails Thousands Of Overlapping Pages, And The Sea It Floats Upon Is Dark Black Ink.

Taking His Time, As Though He Has All Of It In The World, In The Universe, From The Days When Tales Meant More Than They Do Now, But Perhaps Less Than They Will Someday, He Draws A Breath That Releases The Tangled Knot Of Words In His Heart, And They Fall From His Lips Effortlessly. "the Circus Arrives Without Warning.