In the liminal space between us,
There is a gulf that cannot be crossed—
Not because bridges haven’t been built,
But because they’ve been bombasted—
Oblivion exists within the oblivious.
What is lost in translation
Deeply, profoundly dismays me
For love
is
my
.
e
r
o
.erocore.
o
r
e
.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: August 20th, 2025 08:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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Comments1
Forsooth. Sayest thou so, mon? I call fie on that assertion though I do know thou thinkest thou hast love in thy endeavors. But contradict me. Fascinating and curiously rendered with interesting effects and an undefined, weighty poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
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