Those shadows the epitome of time

let me bruise them so they cannot move,

make those pale moments clearer

in the light of the hurt-

a life no longer drenched

in shapes eclipsing the stopwatch,

now I can pause time when I want to

escaping the minutes for hours,

see the clouds in still shift,

alluding to an illusion

of some fading minute,

the hands of the clock skim ...

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Those dulcet shadows

chased my figure,

dancing. a motif,

that refrained

to end of those pages,

a requiem of endless sobriety

to those euphoric seconds

lost to me.  

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Moulded leather feet

marital as those laces unending

began to weave, dictating the vows

in material, aesthetically strung

beside my fingers,

the draping knot tripped

below my tough coat,

falling towards pavement,

unconscious and disregarding,

tiptoeing back to the perceived years

that are mine.

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