I waited in shadows you created, half breathing half drowning. I swallowed and gasped in the silence, but it passed. I returned the borrowed aqualung to your closet and closed the door.
I’m over that threshold of belief that this was anything more than a well rehearsed part you played. Act one outlived and surpassed the curtain call, but I’m not applauding for an encore anymore.
I’ve dug up those foundations.