has flown a single hour or countless days?
the truth exists between these two extremes.
our shadows pace down recollected ways
and passing time dissects the inmost dreams
did I first reach for you? or you for me?
or did we reach a silent compromise?
complicit anti-angels, we were free
from morals but not free from mortal lies.
the knife that cuts the deepest is too dull
for drawing lines between a whispered no
and shouted yes. and eyes, so over full
with tears they could not see, did tears forgo.
Thus passed some hours a year ago or ten.
Someday perhaps forget the why or when