Evening Butterflies

March 2, 2018

In Spring firelight…
Birds chirp, Frogs croak,
Lavender streams trickle down.

Tides Turn. Reality Shifts. All is falling down…

Sea and Sky coalesce to one,
But this is all but done.

The Existence of Being is no more than a Romantic Tragedy.

When I first felt love I was walking on thin ice.
As my life cracked the ice, I fell through.
The frigid liquid paralyzing, just like the moment he said, ”Not you.”

Life quivering to Nothingness.
A Theoretical Mass of an Abyssal Void.
My battery is at 1%, my lights flickering out.
It was too late to realize, then they all found out.
I was already dead.

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