I miss this still

laid down on the ground
soft brown soil, we lie complaisantly
unwound
above, a million thoughts look down
my ally
oh mother wind
our dreams, they can still fly

and counting stars
we placed
I can hear you say
without a sound
make a wish
when I come falling down

well, here's to you, I miss
my favourite wish
that we are still up there
instead of
on this barren ground

Imposition

... we can not claim
... we have options

situations dictate
like private prompters
how we behave
and what to say

choices
not nearly close enough
to touch

you and I

have decisions
we don't want to make

propositions
not a part
of this impossible intake

so we simply
break
slowly but clearly

past and present
become our future
far away
and further apart

in shards of what could be
we fall
deep enough to feel
this oppression of
impossible pain

I spy

as I silently watch,
extricated,

all those embroiling hands
slowly
strangle one another

I wonder:

which is the finger
that sugared the pie

Seriously?

your observations
ring a bell

not of recognition
but significance

a random selection
of obvious pieces
that were
self-consciously sticking out

you are picking up
these traces
claiming they place you
in a certain light,
somehow

and quickening your need
to give me
new meaning, a different life
as if witness needs protection

but I do not live lie

your truth;
not my face you mirror

I left that fate
the moment you thought my point
considerable enough
to rapidly re-portray

Its time

you are just an instant away
but away you are;
a defining moment in memory
of a long longed-for melody

inserted crossroad
spoiling choices
all these voices
claiming sense

when will I know

I will not get lost
in losing you
letting go
is all there's to it