It's a confession of being;
of living; of dying incrementally;
cigarette smoke choking, winter coats aflutter;
the way you laughed, listening to your mother's jokes.
It's ego, pure: supreme;
deciding, "Mine is the voice from which you will derive-"
"-and none may lessen, none may deride."
For these, our words, have worth for true.
It's the cruelty inherent to love:
infinity, bound.
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 11:58 PM UTC
It's a confession of being;
of living; of dying incrementally;
cigarette smoke choking, winter coats aflutter;
the way you laughed, listening to your mother's jokes.
It's ego, pure: supreme;
deciding, "Mine is the voice from which you will derive-"
"-and none may lessen, none may deride."
For these, our words, have worth for true.
It's the cruelty inherent to love:
infinity, bound.