That’s my favorite world: the red, yellow, orange shadow world within my closed eyes. This curve in my spine is an echo of the faults in my heart. The faults, they bore me. Shaped me. Remind me. I don’t want to get over you. Our memory foam accepts my curve, my blades, my long neck, and my aching head, on this bed again. I hear your songs. Each word, each melody, time locked with your big eyes in an eternal blink. A bubble land of yesterday’s perfection. That’s my favorite world: red yellow orange crisp shadows dancing together without linear time, without the marching of days.