to skies crashing down, to numbers that will now never be
She counts to ten
before its end.
He lives in the space between numbers.
Soaring skies
dimmed down
without a sound.
She peers within and sees it all.
And so,
she pitched a ladder to the stars.
There is something so very endearingly tragic
about she, who seeks to quantify the space between numbers,
Who combs her digits through the sky
to leave a trail of dust behind,
Who begs to be shown how the vast, far and indifferent
may suffocate a scream.
When the ladder comes apart,
the moment comes to part,
and thereβs no one left to take the blame.
He was the end of infinity.
She fell for the bird’s-eye view of a microscope
Anonymous