Once upon a time
every moment
was a pale and perfect thing
a minuscule infinity
of beauty
wrapped up with people and faces
a high definition photograph
for savouring
in the moment that followed.
But those precious perfections
were compacted into minutes
then hours
and days,
better to be stored.
until all that was left
was infinite shadows of infinities
lost in the dusty catacombs
of memory
that when dusted off
are found
vague and blurred

There are an infinity of infinities in your eyes
hundreds of years of pain
and hundreds more of sadness
you are curled around one moment
closed in to that second
wrapped around a miniscule infinity
of grief
an unexploded bomb
that I cannot defuse