Poems · writing

Indefinitely Lost

Try to count the stars, I dare you.

Let them pull you

Up and down and inside out;

Drowning you in their magnificence.

Conveniently I run from love,

And there it always finds me.

If anything I will hold your hand,

If nothing I will wander.

Filling these brooks with words and strife,

Each minute taking longer.

Life is ticking with ironies,

Most of which we can’t appease

Exposed to it,

Like the photograph we develop

Sitting too close, it envelops you

Slinking around, up from the ground,

Push the knife deeper into my skin.