étude #12

indulged in solace
for all the missed opportunities
to pry into the moment
when your reality slips
between the fingers.

you’re standing on your knees

(a platitude)

and delving with the tin spoon
in the pile
of dust and the glass shatters.

a sand clock.

that sand clock
that you squeezed too hard
in the delirium,
was measuring the time
until you’ll love.

(again)

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