we are double-crossed, star-crossed, fingers-crossed. we are euphoric,
effulgent, crashing and crumbling. we are a new page in an old book.
the gods have not been kind to us but we rise to meet the stars
anyway. the kindly ones would say it didn’t matter. and maybe they
were right. we still could have snatched happiness from our tragedy if
we had made the right choices, the right wishes. if we had been
kinder, braver, purer. if only we had been anything but what we were.
