Empire Of The Senseless

I’m sitting in front of an electrical fireplace. The fire doesn’t belong to either of us. I’ve had three glasses of wine, but I’m not drunk, only slightly vulnerable. You sit on the couch behind me. “If I didn’t say, I’d still have felt it. Where’s the sense in that?” You set down your glass and breathe for the first time in what feels like years. “Making sense of anything is a tricky logic to get sucked into, Sage. Don’t you want to change your name? Surely you can’t stand to be called her naming of you forever.” I look back; my head is almost in your lap. “I like Sage. It’s fitting. It hardly matters where it came from. Don’t you think?” I don’t let her explain. “What’s the sense in explaining how we feel? Don’t you think it’s silly how we watch each other everyday and say nothing? I love you. I love the way you feel the subtle energy of the humans around you. I see you. But I’m hateful in the same way that you are sincerely sacrificial. You want peace for the multitudes. I want your happiness. I want to re