Behind the mirror stands the image
Two sides of a story bound together
Filmed into the sanctum vintage
Of momentum holding you.
Slanted flower, blossom beneath layers.
Exchange numbers as you do.
Follow pattern-scripted sidewalks
And you know now, I love you.
It slightly falls where evening makes the summer.
It’s a problem, but I’ll continue on this sidewalk. I hear a calling,
Is it time? Can it be now?
Sidewalks lead right to you.
You, as though the nearest path of a rumor is, timidly,
Making all the best of disassembling a view.
Holding onto what the moment brings to me, destiny,
Breaching what defines the windows’ long cascading view.
Is it me? Can it be that I’ve stacked the plates oddly too high
I long to dream of days when I will be simply with you.
You can cry, but I promise you that death is just an option, baby.
If I do, I know this is true: the sidewalk leads to you.
Whether I’m cherry red or suffering blue, I only think of you.
I am covering momentum, suffering to witness you.
Stand on this sidewalk, and I wish to be with you.
I can’t do anything because my mind is lost.
It’s all because of you.
For poetry and more, explore the sidewalks of Mecella.