Curvature

She just couldn't take it anymore.

So with a desperation only frost in late morning could understand

She pulled out a steak knife and

Slashed the air in front of her. The

Seam of life caught on the rusty blade and ripped apart the

Society that she was clambering to non exist in.

Sore from the imagination of this unhappy world

She tore a hole in reality

Stepped through the torn edges of humanity and

Slipped into a new kind of world,

Separate from the

Selvage of unhappiness and despair.

Sunday they found her

Shadow, resting on the couch, the

Sole remaining evidence of her existence