Record spinning beneath a single burning candle,

Fighting the darkness settling in.

Your hands grasp my hips

As we sway back and fourth to the music

Filling the air with hope;

Hope that I can over come

This burning uncertainty in my lungs.

Your wind is free of worry,

Settling into the cold basement floor

With the dormant dust.

This fickle love that only I can see

Is rotting away at every last drop of faith I have,

Draining out the tips of my fingers.

As the last beam of the setting sun reaches through the window,

The room is eaten by dominating darkness

And the single candle is left to luminate the room entirely on its own.

The song begins to fade away,

Leaving the startling sound of the needle scraping the center of the vinyl.

The music stops,

The light blows out,

And you open your eyes.