The italicized clock
raises an arrow...

I trace on the poignant window
the echo that you left in my heart...

Too many decades, becoming
captive to ourselves...

I never knew why I was here,
in this dimension...

He is peaceful with her heart-
believing without exception...

Inject in me a set of false memories,
I don't mind becoming a dream...

Your words sting
and emancipate white winters...

"You will be, the only one."
His voice never faltered, never cracked...

Earlier, I bathed my spirit
in sunshine that was never earned...

Her dream was flushed into mistletoe's grave,
boundless to stop her, yet tugged around the waist...

They always say you can turn around, but I'm not...
(I can't go back, I have already carried myself...

You became my high, my up when I
wanted to dig myself a grave and tie...