there was the intersection. the beguiling coax of going somewhere. the question in his throat. half chewed. eager to choke him.
only time can know what might’ve been.
there were the choices. the frenetic treble of expectation turning to cement under our skin.
it was an easy suicide.
a confetti of touch falling on empty graves.
i watched as all our truths became lies.
and i couldn’t remember anymore. why it had once hurt so much.