The moment
my mouth shuts,
The moment
my psyche connects all dots.
You are a figment
of my falsehood,
A constellated imagery
of my castellated mood.
In full circles,
we aren't spinning.
Motion stirs us up
without us--chance meeting;
Like those entombed
bones untouched,
Our scrambled sentiments
are left unmatched.
As time progresses, we change
while we're in chains;
But we remain outlanders
riding on different trains.
If there were instances
of frozen reality,
Surely we'd be
like Sun and Mercury
Or even nearer, closer
and clearer... sooner than later
Till we feel the broken splinters
of our weakening specters.
The mad matter
of the heart mutters
And it's more than
crossing the rivers
Our fingers may align and intertwine
---ending those backward glances
that injure our spine.