I can hear the voices sometimes.
Maurice, in his strong silky tone, like a warm blanket over my body.
Brian, in his gentle loving voice, holding me together, trying to shelter me.
Brian standing tall, an axe in his hand, his whole body shaking, making his glasses dance in the lowlight.
Maurice laughing, shouting how all the world is a stage and we are but the players
Brian whipsering how he loved me afraid unable to touch
Maurice caressing me, telling how he needed me
Imdrowning in them