as a young something of sorts lays in bed
pensive along with his partner and draped over each other in bed
he cannot help but wonder in the back of his mind
would it really be the best decision to purge the memories?
on one hand, it is the best thing that he could do for this forced relationship
for no one should ever have to suffer flashbacks and tremors
of the end of life spent in constant distrust
and culminating in the acquaintance with the clammy hands of death
but on the other hand
he fears the dissipation of all known logic and reason that he’s collected
for if he does not know the complete and utter truth about his likely future husband
how can he be sure that he has made the best choice?
his partner lays right alongside his spine
clutched in the deathlike embrace of deep sleep
struck in the heart with a piercing arrow of love
and blinded with glasses tainted rose by the blood on his hands