Sometimes you make connections,
In passing cars,
in moving past
Or walking by.
You lock eyes for a moment and you feel a bit of their existence.
You wonder if their soul is full or drained of life.
You feel their life slip through your fingertips
fragments of their reality
like grains of sand
until all that's left
is one tiny piece of quartz
on the grove of your fingertips,
fingerprints,
Your identity in wavy lines.
That tiny grain leaves minuscule indentations,
a brief reminder of the life you witnessed
in a fleeting moment.
One of thousands,
One of millions.
Stardust to sand.
About the Creator
Josey Pickering
Autistic, non-binary, queer horror nerd with a lot to say.
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