shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Peter Roberts

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worlds, fragile
as ice, shatter
in slow, bitter

the pieces scatter
into night's blackness
under malignant
green firefly moon.

we move apart. cold
air wraps around us,
close as we once were
in star-spiced darkness.

sharp shards of air,
our voices connect, cut,
sever what remains
of warmth.