Folie

or perhaps you'll see him standing in a doorway
/ who knows which dark doorway in a house full of shadows /
and he'll be smiling in a rogueish way / hair falling over his eyes /
and you'll run the obligatory gamut of disbeliefgriefrelief
/ what does it matter he's here now he's safe /
and you'll run down to meet him head on with a greeting.

... it'll die on your lips past the first obscene crack of your voice.

it'll die in your heart with the cold and the black of that void.