The gun falls,
a quiet thud swallowed by the earth.
For a moment, everything stops—
spirit caught midair,
astonishment blooming, then fading.

The wreath of laurel means nothing now.
The universe holds its breath.
Limbo stretches wide,
a wheat field swaying like a forgotten memory.

Lost, but the road home is familiar.
It slips through my hands,
like little fish gasping in the shallows.
Their fluttering bodies remind me
of something I can’t name.

Heart breaking, but softly.
Like stepping on eggshells,
like knowing and not knowing.
Resignation settles in my stomach,
a slow swallow of disappointment.

Blowing words into the silence,
watching them dissolve.
Everything is bleached, pristine white—
a space too clean,
too empty,
too much like an ending.