For a moment,
I was everything.

As we danced,
He spoke in sonnets,
promised castles and constellations.
I believed.

But when the music died,
so did he.
The stars blinked out,
the castle never was.

And I returned
to my table,
to my silence,
to a world that never danced.

With nothing in my hands
but the weight
of hollow words
spoken in fluent dreams.

Who hasn’t wanted to stop time for just a second?
Something fleeting — a moment, pure and simple.
The peak of life should be something we could wrap up and keep safe.
Everything passes — and most of the time, that’s a good thing.
But sometimes, it’s heartbreaking.
Not everything should slip away.
Some moments are so rare,
they feel heavy in your hands, like you could actually catch time.
But you can’t.
It always slips through — and like I said, everything passes.
A tiny fragment of time.
From Latin momentum, meaning the power to move, to shift.
And it’s that weight packed into small, passing moments
that keeps us moving forward.
Everyone has a moment they’d live in, if only they could.

Oh to be my your side
It feels unmatched
My hand onto yours
I couldn’t ask for more

Walking along the streets
Stuck together like glue
The fluorescent lights
Shines you so bright

Long into conversations
Short on time
It pulls you away from me
Like a beast in its prime

Enfolded by you on the bench
The breeze comes in without, warning
I feel your light pats on my back
Similar to a consolation of a baby, whining.

City lights all around
You tried to steal a glance
You failed as I looked back
We make eye contact
I admired your nuances

The night grows in prominence
I wrap my hand tightly
Around your arm
This night
Stays like this
Perpetually
Never momentarily

Evanescent ghosts
share sad, glass secrets…
Beauty is transient
and eternity is dark.

Born and broken;
yet we laugh—
Celebrating these
sacred, porcelain selves.

Lost in the peculiarities of the crowd,
Searching for identification,
In the warmth of companionship,
In a hug, in the comfort of a smile,
And in the depth of sharing.

But they remain empty,
Suffocated by loneliness,
Shouting within a space
Without transmission.

By such fleeting people,
Lost among so many options,
Passing like Russian roulette,
In search of the perfect alignment,
Nonexistent.

But, in diving into unpredictable moments,
In the whirlwind of scarce and immortal time,
Is perfection found?

No,
Just a temporary relationship,
Built by the strength of company,
Extended by the strength of love,
Often sustained by the constancy of habit
And continued by the convenience of routine.
Yet, beings so diverse in their "selves"
Change, mold, and transform.

Perhaps that is why the constant struggle
For encounters and mismatches
Is so few and fleeting,
Consumed by the fire of passion,
In search of the consistency and coherence
Of the multifaceted and other being.

Today I will become an ephemeral thing
the mist in the flowers
the feeling in the forest that you are not alone
the ocean’s salt caress
No one can touch me
They do not have the right
My gifts are only for those who seek them
and have the strength to bear their weight