The Mandrake.

I’m in a … pub.

Waiting for him.

I have cards laid out on a table.

I spent a night speaking truths.

5 years of silence growing a voice that I thought was mine alone.

But songs are doors.

And poetry a kind of prophecy.

I wish he was here with me right now. So I can tell him just how much I miss him.

One day … soon … one day.

#2026