Love died in his lungs—
in the peripheral,
the shadow.
Cancer promise, primed.
In the vacuum of his final breath,
she became by detonation.
Love distilled to bone,
sketched, fractured,
sewn over fibreglass fields
beneath a carbon sky.
Eternity hangs its own art—
widescreen, universal.
Billions unblinking,
unseeing.
I stand still as the stars,
staring under crystal trees,
tears falling—
cutting slow fissures through dense air,
unwriting memory.
The legacy of a lived landscape
Rendered on surface tension.
Deleted on impact.
Turning. Reframing.
Shutting the door.
Reading the trauma-code,
encrypted, engraved into the walls.
A sun rises from the floor.
Four walls burn their memory
into dilating black holes
eating my sight.
It smells of memory,
burned raw—
promises set
by a fallen star.
In the curl of my fist,
it splits, disperses—
the materials of eternity.
I feel the fissile spreading.
And step like the gods before,
grinding one horizon into the next.