There has to be something more inside of her. Something primal, something from before any of us first crawled forth from the ocean deep. Something from before we walked in stride, heads facing the sun. I find these things, instinct coded in coiling lines of DNA, carried in blood, coursing through the veins my fingers trace along skin stretched across arms resting gently. I reach in and pull them out, examining them in this dying evening light, film strips of identity.
Sunsets give way to a world separate from ours, where the only thing cast in a deeper darkness than the woods surrounding this isolated home I make in her is myself. Something is lost, but something is found in shadow as a side of me awakens. A side of me arrives. Maybe it has always been there, nocturnal like the owls whose eyes glint in fading moonlight or predators that stalk and coil between trunks of trees older than we will ever be, lifeless life not concerned with these things.
In her hair I find a softness that I had never seen within myself; in her mouth, space to be filled. Words to be spoken softly like falling rain that is beginning to pour down now, soft pale light revealed in the cracks of clouds where overlap has failed to occur. We have seen night as a waiting period for day, but we have seen wrong: in her night there is no sun that could revolve to this space now.
Just as too much light will blind you and cause darkness maintaining its permanence, too much of her will take it all away, the power cut, the rain leaking through. It drips on me now. The flood has begun. I let it grow around my feet. I let the walls become a box and the box fills with waters cold and dark. I rise with the water and reach the ceiling, face barely breaking surface tension as I look up at the darkening wood before submerging now; looking down at a bottom that seems to grow farther away the longer I swim to it. When they find me here, lungs full of fluid, they will call me a victim, but they will be mistaken. I could have walked through the door when the first drops fell. I could have left this chamber behind. But I chose to remain. Now, I drown.


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