You kept us apart. In a way it is. You are my lips and my hands now. She would cringe at my touch, at the tangles and barbs and knots of emotions tattooed there. At least three people with cameras start shooting, assaulting my sense of stillness and silence.
Security guards shout stern warnings.
A baby starts to cry. A camera rewinds. A cell phone rings. He sees me among the visitors, listening and watching with you. He sees the beginning of my private vespers as he secures the wing against trespassers for the night.