Dust

As soon as it settles peacefully on the windowsill having finally found a resting place, it's forcefully ripped away, brushed off to fall crashing on the floor and swept under a rug.

Yes, under a rug. Not even the decency of a trash can. Simply brushed under a rug, hopeful that the dust will just disapear from sight and eventually evaporate into nothingness so no one has to deal with it.

Dust.



I thought I was sure.
I thought I had things figured out.
I thought I could finally arrange my thoughts into some sort of readable font.

I guess not.