Time

In more ways than one.
Some lives cut short.
And so many more
minutes rendered cold.

I haven't seen people I love
for longer than I really know.
Maybe I'm afraid to put a number
on the days squandered.

Could you weigh the hours?
At this point surely you could.
There are too many to not feel
the weight of them crashing down.

How do we justify what it cost
when disaster befell so many anyway?
A mask worn/a life saved.
Sure, of course, gladly.

Fear

What did it take, really?
For so long we sat
in front of a mirror with nothing to do;
did we notice anything?

Did we come out of the tunnel
the same as when we entered?
Do we even posses the capability
to know who we were?

Which would be more horrifying
in retrospect.
To know our past self's death?
Or to see not even catastrophe changed you?

If I ever see
those in my heart's eye again
will I be able to spend the time
in a way deserving of theirs?

Will I show the wait was worth it?
Will I recognize them and them me?
Do you gain anything from knowing the question
and not the answer?

Is there any way to make it back.
Is there any way to even slightly reclaim.
Is there hope?
Is there hope...?

Don’t ask questions,
it’s not true—

Please don’t make me
lie to you.

My heart speaks,
Through constellations
In the popcorn ceiling
"You ask too many questions",
It says