It was the end.
Because I was finished.
I was finished.
And it was the end.
It was like knocking at your door,
a constant ringing.
And it was like broken glass
all over the floor
from a glass you’d just seen topple,
as if it had been knocked.
You watched it toppling forever
on the edge of the table.
It was always broken.
It was always falling.
You could hear it.
It was like broken glass
all over the floor.
It was finished.
