The Fall From

The lingering crystallization of something

called love

has fragmented unexpectedly,

spilling over the dirty carpet of a London flat,

shattering,

unrecognizable.

Particles,

too infinitesimal to be brushed away

and too minuscule to be brushed away,

remain still, in thousands –

though imperceptible to the eye.

Gem-like shards of glass,

it seems –

a little remaining stab

of the fall from Paradise.

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