Hollow Feasts

Say when she beckoned. Her voice dense with why. Choices. It's the choices that destroy us.

Fingers quivering. Crayons melting on torn construction paper. Words. Stones collecting in the seldom used hopscotch squares.

Life playing us slowly. On broken machines.

The miles capitulated. All friction and ache. As the effort swelled on the edge of perfection. We're cinders. The remnants of a dead fire. We're shadows. Ghosts of lovers we'll never know. The lights go out and we abandon the pursuit.

willing to wander for as long as it takes to find ourselves.

the box sat in her lap. heavy with so much nothing. she welcomed the end. knowing it wouldn't last.

she fed all her internal cannibals. the bones. the blood. the meat.

devastated to realize their hunger still remained.