Stars
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Regret fills the mind.
A quarter of the way down, I think about my family.
Halfway down, I remember that I never called my sister.
Nearly there now; I realize that every single problem can be solved.
A porcelain figure shatters on the pavement.
A heel grinds it into dust.
Attention.
I drift.
There are stars.
I see stars.
Stars.
Copyright © Fiona Kaldeway | Year Posted 2017
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