glancing around his wasteland of a universe, god sighed — incomplete demolition. retrieving several abandoned stars tucked away in pluto's withered arms, he began to stitch a newborn cosmos as dark matter descended to feast on the deceased.
and then, whispered in his soft, cratered voice, "too much has been lost to passion."
YOU ARE READING
passion
Poetry❝but he needed her. like the crackling stars demanded their wretched sky.❞
