if yearns to be kept as is a thing holding itself together traversing a straight line.
pause as if insistence, breeds space, pretends as if one if not halved, severed,
stills itself to a portrait facing the mouth of a door that shuts itself to the future,
reopened like a wound foretold, dragging with it the lassitude of a detritus.
memory has a force compel me to compress my voice to silence, memory of a face by sundown, the moon in its throne subdued, kept afloat by a net of stars.
memory it is a force it cannot name,
forcing open this held peace does not know how to break