Record spinning beneath a single burning candle,
Fighting the darkness settling in.
Your hands grasp my hips
As we sway back and fourth to the music
Filling the air with hope;
Hope that I can over come
This burning uncertainty in my lungs.
Your wind is free of worry,
Settling into the cold basement floor
With the dormant dust.
This fickle love that only I can see
Is rotting away at every last drop of faith I have,
Draining out of the tips of my fingers.
As the last beam of the setting sun reaches through the window,
The room is eaten by dominating darkness
And the single candle is left to luminate the room entirely on its own.
The song begins to fade away,
Leaving the startling sound of the needle scraping the center of the vinyl.
The music stops,
The light blows out,
And you open your eyes.