you remember the sound that dispersed quietly in the background after uneven pieces of a glass hit the floor on which you and I stood, barefoot, looking into each others eyes. blank. paused. dead with half open lips waiting for residual words to come out and fall on the floor with those uneven pieces of glass lying so still. so still and placid like a baby hushed to sleep after a night full of breathless cries and we stood barefoot on the cold floor waiting for some life to happen to us, hanging by a thread in the middle of a serpentine void as it locked itself around us. between us. within us. You remember that dreadful sound? It rings at the back of my mind, whenever I, subconsciously like a ritual.. breathe your name.