I Dont Think Ignorance Is A Way

Each Time I Told My Story, I Lost A Bit, The Smallest Drop Of Pain.

So There Are Cakes And Pillows And Colors Galore, But Underneath This More Obvious Patchwork Quilt Are Places Like A Quiet Room Where You Can Go And Hold Someone's Hand And Not Have To Say Anything.

But She Was Waiting Patiently. She No Longer Believed In Talk. It Never Rescued Anything. At Seventy She Had Come To Believe In Time Alone. ~pg 254

I Would Like To Tell You That I Am, And You Will One Day Be, Forever Safe.

The Dead Are Never Exactly Seen By The Living, But Many People Seem Acutely Aware Of Something Changed Around Them. They Speak Of A Chill In The Air. The Mates Of The Deceased Wake From Dreams And See A Figure Standing At The End Of Thier Bed, Or In A Doorway, Or Boarding, Phantomlike, A City Bus.