I recount moments with pensive eyes
Through mercury mirrors and fluid skies.
As cities fold like paper cranes,  
While clocks bleed with watercolour stains.

Obscure are the faces that I once knew,  
Now speaking in tongues of indigo blue.  
Their words grow cold in the morning frost,  
Like maps to places long since lost.

In rooms where gravity forgets,  
My thoughts float in spiral pirouettes.  
Each echo dons a foreign skin,  
As outside weeps with what's within.

Moths of meaning flutter past,  
Too translucent here to last.  
Their wings spell out words left unsent  
Of an unexchanged sweet lament.

I drift through crowds of mannequin dreams,  
Suspended, alone, and unseen.  
A spectral figure in reverse,  
Feeling like an outsider in this universe.

Time melts like Salvador's clocks,  
While purpose spills through quantum locks.  
And I, a paradox undone,  
Mull over what my life has become.

©️Lizzie Bevis