…and that is okay.
We will not be understood.
We will die alone and
In the arms of fear,
Your face,
Fingers grasping just to feel,
To stare into,
Not the space between,
But that which lies beyond,
Breaking,
At long last,
The mirror…
Form:
New,
To take,
Cracked and brittle skin
Falling to the floor as smoke,
Vapor to rise
And float
Above.
Objects, and the Distance Between Them 