Outside was calm.
The ground electric.
Alive.
The graveyard in the distance lit by bugs.
Luna stared at fox potential.
Still.
The whispers of maybe loud.
The zap of now and a look.
Invisible Dion not so much.
There.
Where to next.
The lust of conquest and remembrance.
Always forgetting the look of dark.
Passage of feelings undone.
With me.
Much Love,
Chris Dock