Spiraling cycles
Reluctant approaches
Exhaustive conjugations
Paths crossed are nothing more
As my hand strokes yours
Nothing stirs
In my mind’s eye all is mud
A murky vision enshrouds you
We have entered a rupture, a stalemate
You don’t feel like a scent
There is no accompanying rapture
Your edges are blurry
And I am leaving.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Spiraling cycles
Reluctant approaches
Exhaustive conjugations
Paths crossed are nothing more
As my hand strokes yours
Nothing stirs
In my mind’s eye all is mud
A murky vision enshrouds you
We have entered a rupture, a stalemate
You don’t feel like a scent
There is no accompanying rapture
Your edges are blurry
And I am leaving.
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