I have no yesterday or tomorrow: no previous, or next. It is always now. Why did you kill me? Was it planned? Did you tell me and truth pass me bye, a sudden scent carried fleetingly on the wind. Was it for love that you killed me? Did you think I would die? Push. More a nudge… Not violent at all. A seabird cries out, startled at this twist of nature. The world spins as I spin. My scream will chill walkers on the cliff path on desolate afternoons, stall them in their routine and in their thoughts until they hear only the seabird.
I am still falling.