So It Is by Libby
Mar. 6th, 2012 08:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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~~~
The sounds haunt my nights at times. Lying abed with the moonlight trapped and shut out behind the thick screens on the windows, I suddenly fancy I can hear footsteps, coming up the corridor towards my door. Many are the times I have leapt from bed to wrench open the door and confront the owner of the steps; and yet there is always no one there.
Why I think these footsteps so important I cannot say. There are many others who dwell in this house besides me, and the door to my room is on one of the main corridors. Anyone could be walking past. And yet, late at night, when those footsteps startle me from dreams, I know they are not the tread of a mere mortal.
Yes. They are his footsteps. I know this is so, and yet I know this cannot be so. And yet, so it is.
Sometimes, in the blackest of black nights, I hear the whispers as well. The whispers call me, they say my name, and they speak with his voice. His. The voice of love, the words I longed to hear for all the days and months that he was with me, his voice whispers to me now under the cover of the inky dark.
I know this is so. And yet, I know this cannot be so.
And yet, so it is.