You and I ought not to die before we have explained ourselves to each other. For passing passions hearts do broken pieces hold for fortuitous groupings have contrived to hold our fickle breath here between opposing planar designations. For here I stall between your fears to be nothing and everything for you. Afraid to speak to move to breath for fear your terror of less or more would destroy the tender dealings of my gifted star crossed heart. All the while gentlemen passings ferry perceiving me as all or nothing attempt to tug at my vulnerable means and still I absolve to remain. I am your wraith between true and false walking a thin tight rope between your fear of holding and fear of letting go, waiting for you to grant me life as you have since saved me from death. For I would rather die bleeding in your arms than live breathing in theirs.