It fell apart.

The whole thing just fell apart.

At first I thought it would break and then with a little glue and paint I could make it look just like it was brand new.

Then it fell apart.

It was my fault but I couldn’t help myself – she was a tempress and I was susceptible and left unguarded…

She was 22 years old and a temptress – I was slowly gliding down the oil patched mountain, tired of overlooking the messes I had made over the years. She showed up with a smile and an opened button down shirt.

I wrote some words for her, some rhymed and some didn’t – but they each had a purpose and ended with a meaning or answers to some questions.

We shared some wine, got physical drinking in a stew brewed with physicality and a spirituality from another dimension. In a hotel room, behind a tree in the park and overlooking the city behind a wall on a rooftop.

Then it simply slipped onto the ground.

I thought I would be able to gather all the pieces and somehow put it all together again.

But there were missing parts and rusted pieces.

The whole thing was shattered.

It all fell apart.