Holding on to fleeting
all too fast
and meeting death and deadlines
whirring
making all that is turn deafening
my words don't cut
caress and just forget about it
open, breathing
inside who or what or when
but then
the never ending follows
1 2 3 and make-you-mine
to see you never holding on
to gone and left
left and gone
forgotten, headstring
meaningless creature-
and I can't do without
the grace with which
I thought I was captured.
Stolen, condensed, momentus
take this instant
keep it close.
Watch me peel off layers
dance in the rain
to see the reaction
that steals across your lips
when you realize, oh!
Butterfly has upped and gone
-you can never hear her song.
ever?
Ever.
Never.

08/17/2003

Posted on 08/17/2003
Copyright © 2025 Trisha De Gracia