Disclaimer: I don't own. It all belongs to Smeyer
It was a droning. A continual, singular sound.
I felt like I was lost in a fog. A haze. A daze. I was lost and I didn't know how to get back.
Detached, like severed balloons from cotton strings, floating up, up, up towards the stars and away from this quandary.
Dissipating like streams of heat from a campfire into a southern summer sky.
Like crystal glasses, fragile, delicate glasses tumbling end over end over end to meet their end at the hands of the hardwood floor.
Scattering like tiny shiny diamonds gleaming in the sunlight.
My sunlight didn't exist anymore.