Breadcrumbs

There's a maze in your mind, constructed to lead us to our graves. 

I left plenty of breadcrumbs along the way, planted a garden's worth of seeds in the hope that we might see pretty flowers bloom in spring, but even the strongest life needs sunlight, and we both know this path was built on sunsets. 

There were plenty of clouds drawn by airplanes, warning us of danger while we sat on the beach, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere dangling like Damocles' sword over our heads. The sun fractured through every droplet in those silken white trails, blinding us as we stared at the cresting waves. 

I wandered into the reproduction of realities I've only glimpsed for moments, surreal replications of irrationality and deception, the expectation of gravity combating the knowledge of love in a deadly game of fortune. 

There's a maze in your mind; I traced my steps backwards and found only dead-ends.