A million fallen certitudes.

Encircling these loose threads around my fingers, giving into the fragrance that still lingers upon the surface of this woolen shawl, I wonder how much longer before this too shall fade away, before this too shall untangle itself from me, and become another forgotten regret, another uncomfortable silence.
I wonder how much longer before the boxes of broken eternities that lie hidden under my bed, shall become mere decayed ruines, utterly worthless with layers upon layers of dust clinging to their surface.
I wonder how much longer before the inconsistency of this distant ‘always’ shall disrupt into a million fallen certitudes, a million miniscule miseries.

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