Walls

“I want out.” No you can’t, little one. Your time is done. You can’t come out anymore. You were too late. The walls tell him.

“But I can turn things right.” Not now, not anytime soon. She’s in the clouds now, watching you over your head. Time will tell. The walls tell him.

“But she’s my everything.” She can no longer be. He’s her everything. And she’s never going to let it go. Until he does, or if he will. The walls tell him.

“I’m in pain.” And that pain shall be ignored. For it is the pain of regret, pain of doubt, pain of certainty. Pain that is reality. The walls tell him.

Muffled screaming of the little one echo beyond the walls. Unheard, unable to see the light, the little one curls in pain. Seeking help. Seeking redemption.

“Let me save her.” No, she won’t let you, the walls tell him.

....But you can be there, and walk beside her. Time will tell.

“And hopefully, time tells me that I’ll get that chance.” The little one mustered his energy into that one thought.

But hope, is such a dangerous and fragile thing. So why then, do we have hope in loss?