Temporary

Being the you in the I
 In the eye of love
 Bruised by the cross
 jagged bowl of hearts
 Jigsawed in the lining of your
 fingertips
 Hanging on the life line
 of your thoughts.
 You sit cross-legged
 two inches away
 from my thoughts.
 Bruised be you
 Be our future together
 In the never life
 The never coming
 of the undertaker
 Ticking away
 his booze
 be caught.
 Be caught in the afterlife
 Of who be it and who be me
 Entangled in what should have been
 Trampling
 Tumbling
 Tramping.
 In a closed space of four boxed walls
 Enclaved in the cluster
 of my tomorrows.
 Never-ending, so be it
 Never-fading, be it still
 

Trampling
 Tumbling
 Falling
 Tramping..