We crossed that border, you and I,
and found an unfamiliar land.
There were no signposts, milestones, maps,
just empty roads, and you and me.
We walked in wordless silence;
we walked until the darkness came.
I could not see you as I stumbled
towards a grey, unquiet sleep.
I stared at brick walls when I woke:
the curtains drawn, the door left open.
There were no mirrors to be seen;
there were no pictures, only frames.
Your absence made my heart a stone,
ice-water ran inside my veins.
I wandered through that house for years;
and wondered where it was you’d gone.
I left that place and crossed a border;
I found my own familiar land.
My blood returned, my heart grew back:
I made a new house with my love.
We painted walls; made shining mirrors;
our stories lit up laughing rooms.
And when we saw our home was built,
we fell into each other’s arms.