I am mesmerized—
is this perfection?
A loop of wanting,
twisted in reflection.
I trace the edge,
but left—yet right,
a single surface,
no end in sight.

Knock on your door,
half-turned, half-true—
for your name, a breath,
but the path bends anew.
I needed to ask you,
but the strip’s sly twist
holds me here, unbroken,
in endless tryst.