She cuts the cake

She

cuts the cake horizontally with a rope then vertically with a knife, cut by cut. Isolated square pieces appear through the slices. She separates them slowly. Millimeter per millimeter, moving each away and away. Life motion. Really life motion picture. 

You walk through the pieces of cake growing from the ground like millennia trees. The sun hides behind them unable to shine onto. In shadows you walk, zooming into the pieces. Smudgy cake is all we got, screen projections on milky buttery dough. 

Here is I, eyes blinking. I am myself—be it.

And I move, and I shake my head, and as leaves hair falls gently onto the ground. Here is I, accept me. 

And you see her lie, and you see her kiss. Gently folding legs over the bed over and over. When people die, how long are they stored in iCloud? You’re distracted. Sorry. And you feel disgust, filling the left corner of your stomach—

Easing in, love’s gone.