To scream.
To leave
with ice
that follows us,
that has our back.
We’re dreaming.
We’ve been begging
for something
more than our state.
This isn’t lasting
longer than an instant,
while eyes are on track
for the past.
What are we feeling,
after we’re used up
for another time?
A face stays
when it freezes
as a brief,
simplistic memory.
Nothing’s complex
about this,
as everything’s distant
in our closeness,
touching skin,
emptying eyes,
until embers
reveal what’s left.
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