I am standing above a wall. I see trees and bushes in green, inched between buildings painted in grey and white. The sky tells me it’s blue, but I see more black in it than I ever did. I see your eyes, deep and dark, nested in a hollow of skin made tough by bruises. I see your yearning, your letting go, I feel your touch, your spirit flow, as I inch closer to the edge. I take a sudden, striking blow as I look around in a daze. I’ve caught my balance, and returned to the madness. Yes, I found my way back. I did not give in, honey. I did not give in. I never will, and you know that. I will not take that step that took you. Your doom brought my salvation. Your world is my definition. And I will not let anything take that away from me. I am standing above a wall. A wall from where once one falls, they will break, and no king’s horses or no king’s men will be able to put them back together again. I am standing above a wall. The wall from where you jumped into your death.