They chase comets:


Her heels were made of ashes; they dangled in the placid air. Her twilight sight closed, as they swung. Marking what she breathed with childish movements, made by wishful thinking.



Her heart ached and pulsated; it desired to be her eyes, or what was above. She tasted the fire crickets as they jumped in the darkness. Her organ of life crackled with the embers; it sat in the hollow ribs of a personal oblivion, weeping.



She made circles of consolations, making nova clouds with bored hands- She craved something of beauty to gaze upon. She was present, but far away above the passion, legs hung high.

  

The cliff was jagged, like her memory as she sat. It held metal of wasted stars; it was an abomination to those of normal sanity. Yet, her sky feasted on the image, and  her heart beat into the sides of the crumbling walls. It was part of her.



Comets were things she wanted to mock as she held the universe in a small frame, and sullen soul. Her mouth would open trying to taste the balls of scorching light, disintegrating her tongue.



She was the runner of life, and space, yet it devastated her physical being.
They, rather she chased comets.