It’s dark here
in this box
of mirrors
and my memory
feels like
a timelapse
of a thousand sunsets
I never quite saw
but lived fully.
Alive and breathing
in a parallel world
where the dark
is light
and my sunset
is your sunset,

but these imaginings
are false prophets
sent to torture
and tease the life
from me.
I feel the light
leaking out
of my fingers,
the raw beauty
pooling on the floor.

And I am with you
in stars
and salty waves
of sea and love
but you can’t see it,
this round balloon
of need
around your toes
because you only see
the can’t
instead of
the can
living just below
the edges.

4 thoughts on “Timelapse

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