Anatomy of a moon

If I can just have a moment of your existence, we could try to make sense of it all. The amount of times the coin landed on its side. The frailty of that moment, as we are certain it would not last. This time can be forgotten as a page is torn from a book. As you tear a scene from a memory, as I tear a face from your person.

Stay eager, never fall into a cycle. You can not grow around, only upward. An end like a terminus….. to realize where you are from the start, the beginning, to the end, the dark. We always were good at pretending. But the pages couldn’t be torn. The pages weren’t easily removed.

On the border of failure I knew what was to come. The end of your person. Lets start to feel sick, like we used to do when we pretended.

Bless you, Jarone