As a former dancer, I absolutely love the idea of stories behind pieces. Below is my interpretation of the linked video directed by Charles Baldassarra and published by Zach Benitez.
I see it in his eyes.
The red rimmed windows of truth.
I have to go, I turn to leave expecting a void,
I receive a shock.
How low must we go before he decides to abandon his denial of the truth?
I build,
brick after brick, touch after touch, kiss after kiss, until I bend.
Arms intertwined, both the semblance of two journeys careening into one. Hashmarks litter one,
lines of anger and betrayal outline the other.
When lined up they connect as if to form Ophiuchus.
Fresh stars,
aged, healed lines.
He has lost sight.
He has lost sight of the life he had,
the life we had.
I fight, I pull his eyes open to the truth. He is more than his solace,
he is more than the dragon.
With disdain I administer memories through his veins, hope, love, laughter, strength, experiences.
Nothing.
I stumble away from his draw,
but his pull is stronger than that of iron.
There is no escape.
Why does it feel as if I am walking towards a mirror?
A mirror whose shards could serve as my weapon of choice. I feel his hesitation like a knife,
the old familiar alleviator.
I falter.
I can no longer pull and push him up.
I succumb to my vice.
I fall into the crater.
The crater his impact left.
The crater larger than Vredefort Dome.
Reaching for him I make contact.
And it is him.
It is his hand extended with the very shard I feared, the very shard I yearned to hold.
The first is always a bitter sweet return.
We continue side by side.
Our deluded happiness blinding. Or was it?
I was not blind.
I saw.
The last thing to be imprinted in my mind, Two arms intertwining
Two hearts slowing
Two faces of remorse
Two moments of denial
One moment of acceptance
The Ophiuchus falling into place.
