Rory, I want to say that death is what you've always wanted. But that can't be the Truth. [This time] we can blame it on me. I'll be the packing mule, carry all the burden. & you, you can be a child again; fold your church hands like dirty laundry [crease them tight]. Nobody has to know about us, not my fathernor yours --No, not even God

Rory said he loved me but wouldn't hold my hand in public. & he wanted so badly to end the pain, but it never went away, it stayed with the people that loved him.

Language is where the tongue fails itself over & over again.