after the insects have made their claim

can we live like this, halfway between love and darkness, a fledgling trembling at the trunk of a tree, terrified of any hands that want to help, and maybe i keep hanging on because it doesn't matter, none of this matters, with the sixth mass extinction threatening to devour the earth and the universe just shakes her head because she never wanted children but it was pressured upon her, fit into the norm, make your edges softer, don't let them see you whole by yourself, you can't be happy without a scramble of giggles and messy pigtails at your hip, and i never thought i would settle, i always thought i would chase the comets across the mountains, but it doesn't matter, none of this matters, because energy keeps going, its a cycle, winter comes and summer goes, and the flowers burst like fireworks against our ankles, and the leaves crumple, and the wolves howl, and the demons chortle, and the angels drink, and the devil bawls, and we're all broken, and i am nothing special, just a woman of science sobbing over spilled wine and the notion that she must have been better than me, but it doesn't matter, none of this matters, except the champagne clink of teeth biting on quivering lips as i try to sweep up the guilt and forget the words scalded into my memory that you loved me once. you loved me. once.