Madame Rieux

To continue the rather morose mood today,

I cannot bear to see you like this.
If possible I would spend every moment with you in wordless comfort devising a revisionist history.
There;
We would shrug off cancerous men and our own insecurities, not with the normal world weary sigh but with a confident exaltation.
I would devour my lies, imbibing the poison I have so often grown beneath our home.
I would speak to you over breakfast and collect your tears until your eyes dry up.
We would ignore the trifles that constitute living and get drunk off a utopia constructed from an ever decomposing world.
Death would only be physical and we'd trample our fears beneath our new limbs.
Nothing would hold us prostrate, no kings, no thieves and no liars.
The liars would be saints and we would realize they never meant any harm.
We would kiss their cheeks and tell them we knew all along.
God would be exactly who you thought he would be and he'd forgive me for denying him.
And there would be no leaving ever again.