mark anthony cotterman

perpetual loneliness

in which the plains (of north and cunning)

she manipulates the mind of warm breezes

gentle waters drip upon their skins

neatly rinsed together, separate but

same to her, with her words

a drawn kiss to both lover

and privately declared of friend

 

the splitting of seconds in tempered

smiles, slowly moving time to fit, unfit

affection of him (nervous and controlled)

moments made to divide the undecided

conquer, as numbers slip him into the aligned

stars of unaligned lovers and perpetual loneliness