Your place
by a gentle_rose
In the seams of time
a passenger on a moving train, head in the clouds
— and eyes hazy like an unpolished dime
lunges through the other side
Fleeting memories enter in prideful strides
drenched in golden hues, flashing through her brain
as she silently traces
ineffable clues amidst the pouring rain
Heart racing, fingers trembling
as she traces the patchwork quilt of broken dreams, that only grew
futile attempts to forget, and blazing memories she haphazardly threw
Your place was here
where the afternoon sun’s glow
illuminates the hallway of a place thrumming with familiarity
where lighthearted jokes pulsating through rambunctious crowds was a regularity
She Sieves through crowds,
before drowning in your hazelnut depths without fear
A soft smile crinkles on your beautiful face she loves so dear
making the journey ever so worth it, as time pauses and feelings stir
Lips part and unspoken words twirl
yet neither you nor her makes a move,
afraid of certain death
The hallway echoes with Uneasy breaths
So An impasse gathers
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which grows and reaches its lofty hands to the heavens
before the glances are finally broken
Both shuffle away with dizzying steps
rushing off to their friends with fervent whispers of withheld thoughts and regretful missteps
Your place was here
and she appears, a returning observer
To a scene entwined in heated fervor
Eyes that gaze with brazen intensity at the possibilities of fate
Irregarding time or date, like a moment bound to fade
Words laced with double entendres, feelings stifled by a pointed blade
Worries of useless intent, marred by mirages of false perceptions
Sunlight devours the scene, while she escapes time’s great deception
Your place was here
where between the gaps of evening and morning
You appear like a phantom spirit, liberally dancing
Your face is blurred by fading memory, your voice muffled by mournful fear
yet you appear as alive as a enthusiastic cheer
In the pockets ripped open by Lady time,
pennies fall
you see a figure, encroached on the floor of a shower, while soft tunes play
She recalls small talk
amidst the blazing field tainted with wildflowers,
Flirtatious glances amidst the crowds,
before regretting the reminiscing altogether, as the clock chimes twelve
Because this was no fairytale,
and your place was only in the thread work between time.
