We had never really talked much to one another.
She had her books, I had my games.
We were content with our backs toward the other
But the feeling of warmth on our skin could never be replaced.
Funny isn't it, how I manage to keep a straight face.
How I manage not to let it show in my tone; my sole disgrace.
Because now the space behind me is empty.
And I can never go back to that comfortable place.
- Written by Word of Chen, Masquerade series - Poem 6