And he thinks, how curious that the droplets look like they're blooming in the white dip of the bowl, drip, drop, oh dear another nosebleed Rose will be cross when she sees the ruined collar of his nightgown.
And he thinks, why, Sam, you feel so warm against me, I thought you said I was feverish, I feel as if your skin could melt me like a flame. Moths, moths, drawn to the flame, to the fire, are we walking to the fire again?
And he thinks, oh, of course, I'd forgotten, how silly of me, we finished that. It's finished. Over and gone. Lost.
And he thinks, it's so dark. Rose your hair smells like lavendar soap. Sam's hands are rough like the gently tongue of a kitten on my cheek. I didn't know I was crying. Thought it was just a nosebleed.
And he thinks, so lost Sam, so lost, I know you had so much to go back for but we had to come here and I'm sorry and I'm glad you're here with me at the end of it all.
And he thinks, did this already happen? Are we real, or is it another fit of dreaming?
And they say, shush, it's all right, you're all right, try and go back to sleep, there's a dear.
And he thinks, not lost. Found.
And he thinks, safe.
~