Tempus Fugit

 

 

I wish that from your fleeting glance I could
undress your history thread by thread
hear the soft murmurs of your heart that keep you up at night
breathe every tragedy and ecstasy you’ve held onto since you’ve lost your days of
wide-eyed innocence

But time brushes meaning and could-be-something’s away
as if they were specks of dust
so small they could be imaginary