to be someone;
to be who I had always been,
though tucked behind an actor’s skin.
to be honest
to the friends that never leapt;
those that held fast in firing lines.
How quickly it all was sacrificed when playing the role of God,
twisting the hands of time to combat conspiracy.
I was a fool then.
I’ve the same foolish head now,
but lately it’s found a center,
buoyed to one last reality that halts wayward destiny.
These trajectories now meet.
Call it science or call it fate.
Call it whatever needed to create
our hands holding close in a window’s dull glow.
Call it genius or insanity or calculated,
call it whatever needed to create
our lips brushing lightly in the reversal of memory.
Enraptured by a second condemned to expiration,
left fully formed in the depths of a conscious traveler,
I wonder if these constructs of the hippocampus are but hollow rooms,
the scenery drenched in grays illuminated by a mind’s touch,
but they’re never to be shared by the others who were there.
Brushing lightly in the present,
all but simple acquaintances,
half aware and half unaware.
I wonder if you’ll ever know.
I hope you’ll someday know.
( ❤ Mitch)
Thanks for reading! I know this was a long one, but I had fun revisiting one of my favorite shows of all time 🙂