Your move;
Your immobility.
Your silence.
My abyss.
Our precipice on our table with all the cards
laid out.
The hourglass is gone-
my fingernails scream, raw from the sands
that should have flowed from me to you-
instead, they fled far and wide-
I think I got some in my eye,
‘cause there’s a puddle on the table
and it won’t dry.
I gave you time
though it was only a second,
it was more than sufficient
‘cause I’ve heard the parable
that life’s full of moments,
and moments make life
worth living-
living, loving, silence, puddles-
I can’t connect the four.
our life moments are trapped in the continuum,
the infuriating snakes-and-ladders board
in the game of you and I-
I want to watch the corners curl
in the flames of forgetting memories
while I play my turn,
sit in fury,
waiting for your chip to be bet,
to slide, or better yet to climb-
just to move!
so this moment can die
and you’ll live as You
without the I
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