Would you please excuse my grammar —
I'm only trying to caption my heart
like an Instagramer; chasing moments
that vanish in an instant matter.

When and where you eventually find
yourself —no other place will really matter.
We are fragile as glass, fingers made of dreams
swiping the screen, touching reflections that
almost feel too real.

But I’ll never be younger than the day
all my dreams began. Still, I stay punctual —
marking time in commas, pausing in semicolons,
leaving ellipses for the stories I wasn’t ready to tell.

Question marks kept me up at night; exclamation
marks made me bold enough to try. And the older
version of me scrolling through this feed of years,
may have the joy of ending it all with a single,
quiet full stop.