Hydrogen Atoms

The window was open. Just a bit. The darkness wheezing in careless and distracted through a lazy mesh. It was getting warmer. The seasons change for some. Their environment the detonator. The seasons change. Stoic and uninterested in how we are affected.

She watched. As her skeletons tried on their new flesh. Certain some would fit. Or at least, that she could make it so. The puke of skin paramount in all her decisions. Both selfish and selfless.

She wasn't sure she'd ever been the latter, but assumed there must have been moments. When even open windows still couldn't see. What was right in front of them.

And that she had determined was her only advantage.

A lie is only as good as the person who tells it. They're seldom told by good people. But when they are I listen.

The window was barely open. The darkness wasn't even listening to what I had to say. I was trying to write. Pretending that I could.

Close that window and still still see. The people on the other side of it. Become that glass that knew. What was so close. So far away. Lie again. Say I could see. What mattered most.

Or ever had. Tried to mean anything.

Little explosions more than enough to kill everything.