Detour
Road construction ahead. Another pending relationship. Potentially harmless. A fly stuck to the windshield. Its smashed body meaning as much as the life it once had. Just past the corpse the sign comes into view: "Detour" The break up begins. No apologies, no explanations. Just maybe the wind.. it passes, taking no sides. Beyond the sign is a graveyard, holding silence. Holding the hands on a clock. Holding back all but that wind.
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