• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 12
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Starting Again

We dropped our tools
Divorced from our grasp, our closed corpuscles to what lay on the floor
To the worlds above and beyond.
As the sunlight clawed its way through the bones of the windows
We stood, paralyzed;
Unable to define the outside world that lay, now furled
Like a luxurious carpet beckoning forth.
Framed by the dust and hatching
Brushstrokes of our realities longing for a palette
To carve and recreate the world with
Our own signature.
For so long she had been patching the home,
DIY'ed the damaged inside of all we had known
As we sat, holding hands,
As the storm settled
Before our eyes.