Divits achingly clipped

on plain of continuance

are recesses memorized,

places that trip up

nostalgic reminiscences.

Little cuts in our fields

where whimsy

kissed too deep. Lopped,

hacked, chopped,

chewed by each other's take

on it. Spit

or spewed charges

of what went wrong.

How it all went wrong.

Kissed out spaces

mangling perfection

of what we never were.