Reflections show that time passes
stroking smoothness around hollow
There’s talk of stories
behind those panes of azure blue
whispers are seldom true.
Oh, those lips touched icy cold
on the tip of your consciousness
blackening your soul.
Making love to your psyche
as your ego inflated
ejaculating over the clean sheet of reality.
Veiled hooded and tarnished
hiding away from the world,
fingers raise to the cold glass
in sudden longing for fragments lost un-shared.
So I walk away.