The Cynical Fight for Happiness

Part II.

I saw you bent your head down at the emptiness of the ground. The gray and gravelly ground that matched the roughness of my voice for the day. My eyes felt warm and tired with something that isn't sleep and I knew all you wanted was to rest. In this second is when the weight of the years would lump up, turn into absence, and I find myself standing in the cathedral. I resist to kneel. I resist to clasp my fingers together. And I resist to close my eyes.