hours give way to days
stripped of all
but all things arbitrary
every breath a lulled semantic
waning further with each pull
messengers of life’s surrender
dole out cursory entreaties
just as i
they suffer in a solitude of silent truth
trudging mournfully through the morass
in erstwhile lamentation
writhing in the paradox
of reverie amid eschewal
pray your voice ne’er stray afar
come throes of disavowal
fleeing from these feelings dreadful
reticence of conscious dispose
as we are, hapless to unwind
the circumstance that is time’s bidding
still, i cannot stay the ingress
of my memory’s procession
though i failed to give you ward
when desperation marred your world
so profound was your disposition
that i can now forgive myself
should all the stars above
assimilate in singularity
i trust our souls
will always be as one
[image credit: Marta Kiss]
Max, or Not 