diluted.

We are the sound of silence.

We dilute shadows into wisps of smoke,

and destine the night to carry them away.

We created no man’s land.

We outcast the skeletons we skinned alive,

and hope they do not come back to haunt us.

(They never do - we dig them up.)

We grow cold at the prospect of tomorrow.

We cannot survive on our ‘maybes’ or our ‘if you just save me’s’

We owe each other the truth,

but ran out long ago.

We learned the nebulas are dying.

We will learn that we are dying.

We will be brave and save face for the end,

and we will turn our radios up to drown out our good-byes.