All the while, I lay captive.

As I rounded the corner of the stone sidewalk illuminated by the star-lit skies above, the silhouettes of nearby tavern signs appear like ominous crates blocking my path forward. As well worn as this path may be, emotionally, it feels completely out of step with my prior recollection of this travel. I glide sheepishly into the darkness and turn down the alley now littered with stagnant water and refuse attempting to reach her abode before it is too late. I can hear flames from nearby furnaces crackling against the hardened stone walls encasing my narrow passageway, echoing the fires of my intentions now brooding with feverish intensity within my soul. Summoning a sense of renewed ambition, I increase the weight and pace of my steps. Out of the alley, I turn north and instinctively lock in on my destination. Just 10 meters before me, I recognize her home. Captivated by the changes I observe, I settle into a slow reverent stride....observing and processing each second with a calculated accord.

The torch hanging above her wooden door is balancing delicately on its side, out of kilter in its emblazoned sconce. Barely revealing any illumination, it appears as tired and restless as its surroundings. The iron bars shielding her doors and windows are uncommonly in place and secured. It is an usual sight to behold as I have never felt as isolated from her as I do in this moment. As the clouds past over the midnight sky, the moon light dances off the rustic wooden planks comprising the side walls and roof lines of this structure. I stand before the door and hesitate to knock as it has never felt as dark before, and I need to be patient. Patient in this, patient for what I might uncover on the inside of the darkness, what has been kept hidden from the light for decades. I surmise considering the distressed ambiance it is best to remain cautious and diligent with my steps.

Deciding to observe rather than involve, I step onto a stone block and lean into a window trying to catch a glimpse of my love, a notion of understanding without the weight of my arrival for her to bear in these moments that may be too hard to balance. As my eyes adjust to the interior darkness, I detect an outline in the corner of the room. Resting on the ground against the wall staring blindly into the center of the space, I instantly recognize her beautiful face. The only source of light, a candle nearly exhausted with its copious wax overrunning the edges of its silver candlestick base, comes into view on the table immediately to the right of her position.

As I adjust my angle in the window to capture more of the candle's paltry emission, I see a well worn trail of tears carving lines of sadness onto her face, now pooling on the floor below. Smoke arises in the corner of the room from a recent fire that may have just been exhausted before my appearance. However, the flames that were recently present certainly explain the weight of sadness that permeates from this space. I stand in place not knowing what action would be most beneficial at the immediacy of this juncture. I try to capture her glance, but she is indeed wounded and reeling from struggles that play out in her mind.

I step down from the stone block to afford her the respect that she deserves.
I then approach the wooden front door, reach up and adjust the misaligned torch, allowing it to regain its proper illuminating strength.

Absent of any deliberation nor diffidence,
I unsheathe my dagger and delicately scribe 3 letters onto its worn surface.

I    L   Y

I knock once, move my hand across the carved outline of letters and murmured "Always"
I then turn and walk back into the darkness...

Knowing that she knows my heart and will return when she is able, I am content and at peace.

All the while, I lay captive....