Come to me now
Lay your hands over me
Even if it’s a lie, say it will be alright
And I shall believe

The apartment was as dark as ever, but still, it offered a brief respite from the chaotic world oustide. And it was warm. Candles now graced almost every surface in the flat, lighting what they could with a soft, yellow glow. It flickered over the floor, onto the rug, and then the feet of the three figures spread across the couch. A graceful female watched them from across the room with a calm smile – odd, as her unseeing eyes seemed to know exactly where they were. Her work was done. The tall woman softly made her way from the kitchen to the door, passing through and shutting it with a dull click.

As quiet as it was, the sound was enough to rouse the woman on the right side from her daze. Dark green eyes flickered open, and she surpressed a yawn just barely before looking to her side. The dark-haired man on the other side was fast alseep, tucked neatly beside his brother, who was snoring lightly as well. The girl’s eyes roved over them for a moment, her lips parted in a confusing expression. Maybe even blank. In the silence that passed, her deep voice snuck around the room, reaffirming something her mind had only recently formulated.

“Without each other we’d be…alone. Right?”

Getting what seemed like a positive response from the room, she laid her head back down. Pretty face once more turned to sleep with the others. Just ordinary people, recovering from something that had been there for far too long.

I’m broken in two
And I know you're on to me
That I only come home
When I'm so all alone
But I do believe

--
“There is a time for risky love. There is a time for extravagant gestures. There is a time to pour out your affections on one you love. And when the time comes - seize it, don't miss it.”

There are things in life you'll learn and
Oh, in time you'll see.

It was all familiar here. The streets, the houses, the city itself felt like home again. He always said he didn't much like it here, but now he realized how much he missed it. It wasn't the sites or the feel of the city. It was the people. One person, actually. It was the whole reason he came here, back to America. He came here to start over, and that's exactly what he did. He was away from the scandal of England and the hardships of Russia. It felt like he was starting over once more just by visiting. He felt fresh and free.

The car came up to the one house he had been waiting to visit for months. It was all the same, nothing had changed. He stepped out of his car, walked up to the door, and knocked.

Don't run, don't hide, it will be alright.

The door opened, there she was, staring up at him in pleasant shock. She embraced him, only able to wrap around his waist because of his height. He returned her hug, running a hand down her prismatic hair. It was a clear difference from his dusty gray hair. She led him inside, sitting him down on the couch and greeting him once more. They caught up, him telling her of what he had been doing in Russia. She didn't say much about herself. She only told him that she was lonely. It was pretty clear to him why.

Time passed. They made lemonade, spoke about cooking, just talking for the sake of talking. Once again he wrapped his arms around her, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“I missed you...”

She felt like she was melting in his arms. “I love you...”

He wasn't allowed to love though. He was held back from it. If he loved anyone, they would only be hurt. He had to deny it. He had to protect her. It would hurt, but not as much as it would to see her broken for good. He began to pull away.

She paused, “... Do you love me?”

He couldn't answer her. He looked away, hooding his eyes. “I want to...

It's raining again Death.

The hollow, dry, unfeeling rain. It falls though me and shatters my heart, brings me back to you... Why, you will not let go of me. I am unable to rest, your hate, twisted wanting and love chains me here. The poppies weep, and their blood lends no comfort to the ground. And so my presence, you claim will help you, for the poppies lend no comfort to those whose tears fall upon their petals in rememberance of the dark past.

Even blood drys.
Even hate subsides.
Even love, lingers.
Ever my forgiveness, dwells.

Oh, will you not, set me free?

Death is crying...... for me?
Weeping death, Crying Death, my maker. Towering sorrow, is your name. Lingering darkness. Thundering hooves. I will put poppies on thy grave.

Listen to my voice, listen to me.
I am here, I am here.