You were cigarettes and moon dust. You were charm and fury and mine. You spun me round and we stood facing the lake, standing together and pressing our bodies together until the only barrier was the air. Hands clasped, we skipped stones caked in neon across the water, your voice whispering snatches of old tunes into the curve of my neck. The stones pulsated on the lakebed, a beating heart of the Earth, the beating heart of us. In our now frozen and forsaken town, the heart is beating too still, too faint for the ears of strangers. With you far from me, and I in my bed, I still feel our hearts combining and diving below the murky depths of the past.