Withheld

Lies wrapped up in curvatures of desires within frequencies
To send data to dead ends within chatters of withheld truths.
Shattered illusions of momentary glances in poetic nonsenses,
Questioning the lucidity inside transfigurations, juxtaposed by
Those seemingly understood.

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That it Would Never Be

Cotton puffs softly blended in
Salmons, greys, and whites
Sprawl across blue-orange skies.
Heavenly bodies impartial
To incandescent spectral lights
Reflect love’s wishes,
Regardless.

Retracting conjured forms
Beamed in conversing flows
Within whorls of shared spaces
Banished
To would-never-be realities

Tell me,
Does love get easier over time