After our collective heart became a house fire.
After being caught between knuckle and nuance, spitting out bloodied teeth and shreds of sensibility.
After we’ve whispered the name of our country like a curse and a cure.
After mistaking rupture for rapture and exit for exist.
After we’ve stuffed all our love and differences into a time capsule, telling ourselves we’ll revisit them on our deathbed—
after and before all this, there was a battle so brittle it broke down to peace.
RichRant 