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sad carbonara

the cook gave a long
hard unhappy look
at the empty plate
knowing it was
her fate
to make a dinner
for two
for just one
just a me
without a


sometimes falling into
the belly of gravity is
more trying,
more pressing –
more draining,
than climbing away
from it, up into
an atmosphere
where sunlight
burns my fears into the
shadows of clouds,
loudly raining
down, as the ground
swallowed me whole

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: precipice