Organic Chemistry

In that me. In that when. I became her. The little girl. In the basement. Imaging there are windows where none exist. In the future we chose. In the past we were chosen by. Thousands of paths. Each one our own. In this organic kaleidoscope.

The lie told itself. I needed only wait. For someone to believe it.

The boxes heavy with dust. The light in the attic impatient. As it shined on what was not there. The shadows of if I had. Toiling through her body. In dark mazes missing solutions.

In that me. In that brittle apocalypse. I had counted all the numbers. Found the wolf out of breath. And all the pigs' houses still standing. No one inside them.

I continued with my work on the formula. The drastic in his forehead. The organics of then. Tiny spiders. Elaborate webs. The lantern on her wrist. Tired of searching.

The hours arriving in stolen breaths. I borrow what I can. Make do without the rest. I see sky falling. And I open my arms to catch it.