Ohm's Law

 the end is elegant. in its flowing gown. in its sequins caked with blood. 

the edge is beautiful in its naked skin. deftly concealing its crumbling skeleton. 

the truth threaded its needles and slowly mended those holes. 

i gathered my broken pencils and decided the outlines were enough.

i used to have conversations with time. i used to have arguments with it. it usually won. but sometimes we were both wrong. 

we would walk through each other. carrying these heavy suitcases. like we were going somewhere. 

we would swallow the words and pretend we weren't hungry anymore. even though it still hurt. 

we never needed violence to destroy each other. 

it was as simple as doing nothing.