apart from me
a part of me
you lay-
somewhere in between.
floating oh so
carefully, in
a neutral, languid
purgatory.

as you speak, your
words float past,
here today
and gone so fast.
tell me, dear
which conversation
will be our last?

not that I care,
I simply don't
have the energy to.
besides,
it doesn't mean
that much to me
to mean that
much to you.

though down
the rabbit hole
I go
and the other side
breaking through.
for Alice doesn't
concern herself
over the
attention she
garners from
a mere shrew.