Transitions

Nightfell. In the city, grumblings
and misgivings over rumblings
and groans mistaken for
misinterpretation of missed
information and livings
gone missing, fallen
through cracks grown
to narrow abysses,
lives caught and
wedged in the
clasp of
tightening
and inverted
precipices.
If whispers
were wishes,
you could kiss
hers and yours
both hello, in
the middle of doing
the dishes - but it isn't
that way is it? Of course
it is. Exquisite.
Delicious.