I’m unfond of the slow melting
of two lonely icebergs, impatient peripheral pirouetting
fiddling through the cataract of
my river eye
where fidelity is fidgeting
like the bubble wrap
suffocating the
idle memento-mori
My lover is a bird singing
in the ribcage of my old soul’s nooks
somewhere in the aether you repeatedly
lullabying me the same song
& there you are or were
against all the walls you
placed before my entrance
how do I come
to become the one without
the hearing aid yet
to still listen so softly to
the tune of your muted heartbeat ...