We’ve become shadows dancing on the wall,

melting together and breaking apart;

converging to become odd shapes and sizes.

While entangled against the pavement, in a game of truth or dare,

I feel trampled upon and I can’t keep up with you,

as things may have it.

I’m losing touch, though we’re in the same room;

I, on the floor and you on the ceiling, looking down at me

with a certain contortion smeared across your lips—

a smirk or a frown, I cannot tell. Perhaps it’s both.

Perhaps both are meant for me, or for the world,

that for you has morphed into a question mark;

I am the dot that completes the hook—I am the signature du jour.

We are hollow figures twisting in an empty rhythm,

as we attempt to fill in each other’s voids.

But no one told me the bottom would fall out from the cup,

or that the void would seem eternal.

So we fill…

And fill.

And fill.

With our games and motives,

only to be left empty in the end with nothing beyond fancy footwork,

pressed against the wall.

You float away from me to an unknown destination,

while I strive to keep up with every musical note,

that hums like a distant heartbeat around us.


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