Temporary

Being the you in the I

In the eye of love

Bruised by the cross

jagged bowl of hearts

Jigsawed in the lining of your fingertips

Hanging on the life line

of your thoughts.

You sit cross-legged

two inches away

from my thoughts.

Bruised be you

Be our future together

In the never life

The never coming

of the undertaker

Ticking away

his booze

be caught.

Be caught in the afterlife

Of who be it and who be me

Entangled in what should have been Trampling

Tumbling

Tramping.

In a closed space of four boxed walls Enclaved in the cluster

of my tomorrows.

Never-ending, so be it

Never-fading, be it still

Trampling

Tumbling

Falling

Tramping

Mar. 24. 2019

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