Contributor: William Gray Tait - - I call out into the chaos one more time your name. Yet there will be no answer. There never is anymore. This endless day has turned eternal. It hardly feels real. On so many other evenings we would argue and fight late into the early morning hours and then make love afterwards. It was a ritual of sorts, a dance, a synergy, only we understood. And in those moments we would achieve a perfectly symmetrical relationship of angst and anger, where I would wait until that passion, that fire burning in your veins would swell up and push through, melting away the ice built up in your heart. But in the end, at least what we had was real. I know your pain was. I told myself we were better for what we went through. It bound us closer. And to be fair, for all the bad times shared, there were just as many moments...

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Author: William Gray Tait