Between Bruises & Blooms

I blamed the deck
for telling me
what I already knew.

I shuffled harder.

Cut the cards again.

Asked different questions,
hoping fate
might grow tired
of repeating itself.

Instead—

The Tower
fell.

The Moon
watched.

Death
smiled gently,
as if to say,

“Not everything ending
is dying.”

The cards
never predicted
my future.

They simply refused
to let me lie
about my present.