is an image now,
eyes burn with ideas,
and I'm stuck
time flowing so fast
I see what's
abandoned, what affliction is avoided,
and I'm contemplating the wisdom in matching all you're cap-
able of. Deserting, too, the
the towering space where once we stayed.
Did we leave
behind? After rumors of ruins,
and suggestions of deaths, I am fearful of venturing back...
the cries of passage
telling, somehow. There is
a choice in this,
but remembrance falters, and your scarcity gives you away.
I dig through, clambering up, not sure what I'll find or
where I'll end
filtering through the vanished and
past phantoms, and I am taut of tongue close to
where our love
hangs in balance.
Write at the Merge