Her skin glows at the edges, and we are never going to be here again today. Our margins are made of air, our hearts of water, and the ice is tuned to songs we used to know. Dissipation and spark flutter, and never touch our walls. And we are held in these postures. Whatever you see in that light, I know truer lines. And we are secure in these doubts, and safe in evanescent homes. And you are finally asleep.