All of the Things of Which We Mustn't Speak

My darling, yes, the lights cry. They weep in sorrow, deep into the darkest night. We must ask to somehow rid ourselves of this battle. The inner peace, the sanctuary they try to break into. We must forget the eyes over the shoulder. We can only harm the memories. So many things, of which we mustn't speak. A woman just glowing, like a ball of salvation. Her eyes for me, contemplation, and messages hurtling through the mind. I wash her, wash with her, wash ourselves away. Down the drain of everything, holding hands we go. All of the things of which we mustn't speak, jostling upstairs, harrying those cells. My darling, the abattoir, where so many go, where so many are heading, we must seize everything and bring it all to life.