We did not meet on the correct plane of existence where your future collided with mine into tiny flurries of stardust floating infinitely through space.
We met in a lifetime
consumed with deadlines, numbers assembled as an army
an indefinite circle.
We are conditioned to live vicariously through checkpoints; the mind permitting itself to believe in foolishness of the heart.
Our existence is sorted,
into boxes that no longer fit inside one another.
What a waste of clock ticks I've spent reminiscing in the smell of your atoms and the way they felt surrounding me in dreams.
YOU ARE READING
Indefinite circle
PoetryWe did not meet On the correct plane of existence Where your future collided with mine Into tiny flurries of stardust Floating infinitely through space.
