Fetching the clothes scattered about the ground, I found myself shifting between two worlds; between what had been and what had yet to become, and all the time her song was a tidal wave, drowning me in love. Getting dressed as quick as I could, the summer sun beat upon my burnt skin. The pain made me wince, but the magic made every second feel as though I was drunk. The first step was clumsy, and I almost fell, but each one that followed saw me regain my composure until that familiar stupid grin spread across my face just as it used to. How long had it been since I had felt this way? How long since I’d been drunk not on alcohol but the simple act of living? Too long by far, and yet here I was, born again and free of the guilt and shame that had so often seen me nailed to history. Holding my hands out and turning them over, I fought back the tears but soon fought them no longer. They were only flesh and bone, but for the time in a lifetime, it felt as if these hands were once more capable of delivering great things. Picking up speed, I began running. It wasn’t pretty, and several times I tripped and fell, but as my lungs struggled for air and the sweat dripped from every pore, the harder I tried the less it seemed to hurt. Shrieking at the flaming sun, the trees of green made way for the winding streets of home; to the streets where the music of our reunion had been waiting for so long.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US