"Come on..." "You were louder back there." Her laugh disappears between the trees No echo comes back, no rustling leaves She calls again just to break the quiet Like silence is something she needs to fight "That's it?" "...Did you hear that?" No one laughs back until something answers from the dark Too far away to touch, then suddenly closer than we thought It carries her voice, but every little sound comes out wrong And laughs from somewhere empty long after she is gone It starts at the edge where the black trees meet Then crosses the forest without any feet Far on the left— then close on the right A whisper beside us then gone from sight "Don't move." Above us now Below— Then somewhere we can't name No one laughs back until something answers from the dark Too far away to touch, then breathing closer than we thought It carries her voice, but something underneath it feels wrong It follows every step we take and keeps moving us along I hear it somewhere above me, then somewhere under the ground And every time it comes closer, I lose where we are in the sound "Come on..." "...I didn't say that." "It's changing distance." "No." "It's changing direction." Still I can feel it occupying my mind The worst part of silence is what it lets inside I can feel my own reason losing shape in this place When there's nothing around us and we still hear it within Somewhere far away I hear her laugh reply And for a second... I can't remember which one was hers. "Don't answer it."
