i find myself within consciousness
begging to carve
a shape from the blur
doors shift in motion
some open
some vanish
some were never there
i long to exist
in the hush of nostalgia
where breath was lighter
and silence sang
of what we once called real
time, burnt and folded
etches me in place
each second a scar
a whisper on skin
that no longer flinches
i am reminded
by the splits in pavement
even the earth
can’t always hold itself together
yet here i stand
cracked
still listening
for a door that opens
in temperance
in softness
i waver through emotion
blurred by conversations
with ghosts of myself
existence in the pits
books hurled in silence
yet i remain
i sit beneath
the hands of the man i once was
holding lips
beyond the tick
of what we used to be
together
before time
stopped asking
if we were ready