her voice shivered on the precipice.
everything sounded like begging.
i felt it rise like bile but i
swallowed it whole and became a
good little soldier in the line of
fire. left-right-left-left
left-right-left right out that door
and pulled in all directions, feeling the
beginnings
of unraveling.

it feels like sinking.

it feels like the way wet paper
disintegrates
under the weight of
your touch, rends itself more
with each attempt to hold it
together. no, no glue
can fix this, nothing
can fix this now.

but i am a good soldier.

left-right-left-left
left-right-left-left
left-right-le­ft-left
left-right—
screeching, screeching,
jagged and ******
across the chalkboard.

suddenly sprinting, screaming—the kind
that rips out of the hole forming
inside you, landslides and avalanches, the
shriek of stone to rock to dirt.

roadside, arms flailing, trying
so hard to be seen.

𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺—

suddenly, the sound of sirens.