and if eurydice comes by,

tell her i was the one greater wronged of the two of us, & then

kiss her by the knuckle in my stead. i lie because i love.

i looked because i loved. what is love, if not a glance over the shoulder?

i was unshakeable, i was invincible. but you were my crux; you were my undoing.

& trust is no pomegranate pressed to a palm, it is a gate weakly held open for

the two of us, and the expectation not to run. & it is not that i do not trust you,

my love, but i cannot trust any light of the sun that you never saw first. i held

your return above the sins of gods and men, & it was my mistake, but never

you. never you. my faith was only ever you. i believed in your hand clasped tightly

in mine more than i did so in death itself, & i regret only the price you paid for it.

so let us both be specters, then. let us love better this way. this is our reversal, this

is my devotion. i follow you, this time, into a great unknown. so be brave. look behind.