Dust in the Air
I’m broken.
My pieces are shattered into tiny fragments of dust.
I can barely see them as they sparkle in the wind.
Blown away by the crisp winter air.
It chokes me.
I suffocate.
I cough and gasp.
I cling to a small breath of air.
I’m barely alive.
The wind picks up.
It tosses me and I lose my footing.
I fall.
But I don’t hit the ground.
Or did I?
I feel the emptiness of the air.
It catches my body as quickly as it lets go again.
My body is numb.
The air moves quickly through my fingertips.
Faster than before.
Am I still falling?
Or are my fingertips tingling?
I can’t tell the difference anymore.
The stars turn to dust in the mourning skyline.
They shatter and crack as the trees catch fire.
I’m broken.
Or have I been broken all along?
