Soft Corners in Rigid Shapes

an empty space. a broken lock.

she slipped inside yesterday. like a worn pair of shoes.

the map unfolded. the path traced in ink.

i met her there. in the frailty of the creases. a war of choices. truth our only weapon

we ran. fortified by the euphoria of escape. we feasted. on the carcasses of the lies.

that lingering hunger finally sated.

i warned her. that this paradise was only temporary.

the fuel that feeds the flame is slowing starving it.

we always travel alone. no matter how many places we visit.