stage, left


Locked door
once,
if never more,
hide
and hope to find
what never
could be free
to she,
me-
it all goes by
aside
from nights
that never happened
and secrets set to fasten
casket brackets,
set to die
with day dawning,
yet,
live through time,
encased,
in azure eyes

Guilt,
can never fade
wilt, or otherwise
the self-saboteur
burdened full supply,
never short
reverie behind
but still inspired
a part of heart
that shan’t retire,
ever,
perhaps-
for it recalls
it all,
the fabricated sensation
too grand to stay unreal,
too pure
to insure
longevity

For lines,
though not of our design
broke falsehoods
installed psychosis
unbeknownst
to us
as though,
the stage made true
fictitious players
without better knowing,
knew,
that you
and
myself,
would have an evening,
if nothing else

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