the layers broke. untamed secrets and lingering debts. the map divined our place. though it was unable to tell us where that is. the elbow accused the fist. and the tongue indicted the lips. as she spun around in her shrinking orbit. certain still that the world would realize she was the center of it.
all the rain. hungrily falling. all the wind. determined to blow. they weren't enough. not even close. all our pieces remained on the board. our dice missing. our turn forfeit.
we dared the edge. confident in our balance. we dismissed gravity. and eventually fell. we loved in seasons. as the last leaves do in the autumn. and the new ones do in the spring.
the paper tore. the book closed. turning choices to suicide. and our words to ghosts.