These slipdream spindles curl in the hollows of our hearts, capturing the innocence of all that we’ve lost.

Fixed and fastened like prison cell swans, they kiss between the iron with lips that were never meant for love. But even love can be found in the stillest of hearts.

Little is known about these folded souls. Memories have erased any truth that may once have carried from one shore to the next; age has taken all else with a touch of death as cold as metal. They once were all known by separate names, distinct monikers that were spoken in whispers and promises, yet now they have all come together like oceans meeting where no other eye can see.

And until these love wrought hearts break to reveal their secrets, they remain as cold as the day on which they stole our innocence.