Mirrors, drifting


The tar taste of the night lingers in the air
as we walk between the world and the dream
As if embraced by mirrors, drifting in nostalgia or grief
Mind still and awake, gliding down a darkened, faceless road.

There’s time enough
hours upon hours of words and thoughts to get through
no minds but ours breathing
scared to talk or to be seen

Oh ancient avenues and the masonry of memory
still glowing through the fumes in the air
the rocky pillars assaulting our eyes
tender and brilliant memory
inked vaults filled with “long ago”

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