Perpetuitiy

The muscle on the bone. Whispers. How close are we now. The bookends of her lips too weak. To keep her stories from falling down. Memory. Like knives too dull to cut our meat with. They still manage to cut us somehow.

It was too much effort to follow the path. As she navigated a future without us. Diet soda and rum and too many cigarettes to counts. Birthday parties for the dead. And all this space suddenly not a vacuum.

Just clouds. And planets. Lost in the toil of distant suns. Heat and gravity. All those weak forces that often exert so much power. Dustpans and cataracts. As our vision fails us. Seeing by memories. Learning by loss.

The variances. The peculiar spread between if and when. Delicate butterflies sneezing inside the void of my fists.

The changes are negligible. The changes are catastrophic.

The changes are none